


heartsigh

by minghaoareyou



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (Kindof) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, M/M, Underage Drinking, a lotta magic, a teeeeenyyy bit of angst but it isn't bad, references to other pledis artists, side jihan, soonseok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 62,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minghaoareyou/pseuds/minghaoareyou
Summary: Cupid is the god of love, desire, attraction, and affection. He often is portrayed as a chubby boy with wings and a bow and arrow. Typically being a minor character, Cupid helps push unknowing lovebirds in the right direction. Who is left for him to love?Mingyu is a teenage boy with an extraordinary gift. His super power, to hear other people's thoughts of love, only served as a nuisance in his otherwise easy life. It could be that Mingyu's power is a blessing in disguise. What does he have in common with a fat baby, anyway?





	1. cupid part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just starting out in the fanfiction-writing community, so forgive me if this isn't that great. Feel free to critique me in the comments; I'm always open to feedback! 
> 
> The concept of "superpowers" is loosely inspired by a book called Savvy by Ingrid Law.  
> Also, the title is taken from the song heartsighs by purity ring.  
> The stuff in bold are not being spoken... they are being thought and Mingyu can hear them.
> 
> IMPORTANT: I realize that Mingyu is older than Minghao in real life, but for the sake of the story I switched their birthdays! Sorry haha.

For most people, gaining their superpower is easy. They’d wake up on their 15th birthday with some new, magical ability or attribute. Minghao, Mingyu’s best friend, had sprouted wings. They were thin, diaphanous things, but they carried the boy with ease. It was simple for Minghao; all he had to do was wake up and  _poof_! He had wings. They were hard to miss.

Mingyu wishes he had it that easy.

The night before Mingyu’s 15th birthday was restless. He tossed and turned, far too excited and nervous to sleep. He went through his mental list of potential powers over and over again, including some of his favorites. His dad, for instance, could turn into an indestructible, metal man. That didn’t sound like the coolest power, but it had saved Mingyu’s life from being ended by a drunk driver. The way his father had jumped in front of Mingyu’s seven-year-old body was so heroic and goddamn _cool_. Mingyu had always been envious of his father.

Mingyu’s mother, too, had a superpower that was nothing short of epic. She could play with emotions and bend them to her will. In theory, it sounded lame. If Mingyu hadn’t grown up with the woman, he would think so, too, but it was terrifyingly powerful. It felt almost like mind control. Mingyu couldn’t count the number of times that he had felt like cleaning the entire house or buying his mother some flowers with his extra birthday money. She didn’t do it often, but she did it enough that Mingyu knew not to cross her.

His mother had used her powers far more in her youth than she did now. In high school, she hardly attended classes but received As on every report card. “The power of suggestion” she called it. She was a cunning lady.

She drew the line at Mingyu’s father, however. She used her powers on him once and it blew up in her face. Mingyu doesn’t quite know what happened because she doesn’t like to talk about it, but apparently it was bad. His dad says that they almost broke up because of it.

So, there Mingyu was, restless and hopeful. He wanted a strong power that would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. “Maybe I’ll be able to shoot lasers out of my eyes,” he began talking to himself— sometimes he’d do that when he was really worked up about something. Unfortunately, he was a bit too loud for the middle of the night. His sister banged on the wall, yelling something along the lines of;  _keep it down in there, will ya?_

“Hmmm, or have superhuman speed and strength,” he continued, but this time a little quieter. “It’d be cool to have shapeshifting powers like Jeonghan. Damn, I’d kill to be able to turn into anyone I wanted to. I’d turn into a famous movie star or the President or… or… someone really rich and powerful! Then I’d take over their life and be loved and respected by all!” His voice grew progressively louder as he rambled to himself. His mind was moving a mile a minute.

_Boom boom_. There was a knock on the door. Mingyu grunted, and his sister opened the door. “Shut up, I wanna sleep. It’s like 2 am. Go to bed,” her face was deadpan, her hair was a mess, and there were little blue circles beneath her eyes.

Mingyu nodded earnestly until she closed the door. Then he chuckled to himself. “Just a few more hours,” he mumbled, shutting his eyes tightly.

Within minutes, he was asleep.

 

Mingyu woke to his alarm. He slung his arm over to shut off the annoying beeping, groaned, and dragged himself out of bed. Stretching, he walked over to the bathroom and began to brush his teeth. Still half asleep, he pulled on some clean clothes.

“Wait!” he yelled as he was tying his shoes. He’d forgotten about the date… he was now 15, and moreover, he was now  _superhuman_. He rushed back to the mirror to check his face.

Pulling at the skin on his face, Mingyu got closer to his reflection. “Hmmm… seems to be the same as yesterday,” he sounded disappointed. Then, he remembered his list of potential powers, and went through them one by one in front of the bathroom mirror.

He couldn’t shapeshift.

He couldn’t turn into metal.

He didn’t even have wings, for goodness sake.

Mingyu sighed, pulling his backpack on.  _I’ll figure it out by the end of the day_ , he thought. Minghao had once told him that the best powers took the longest to discover. Mingyu hoped he was right.

“Hey champ, how’re you doing?” Mingyu’s father looked up from the newspaper he had been reading and smiled brilliantly at the boy. “How’s it feel to be 15?”

Mingyu gave the strongest smile he could manage and prayed no one would ask him what his power is. “Great,” he said, grabbing a bowl and filling it with cereal. His mother was seated at the other side of the table, reading something (probably a cooking magazine).

She looked up. Mingyu and his mother locked eyes and exchanged a wordless conversation. It probably had something to do with her power, but she was really good at gauging feelings. She could tell something was off.

Mingyu tried to look away, but he couldn’t.  _Oh no_ , he thought. His mother was using her abilities. He felt a wave of emotion… need. He needed to talk to his mom. It couldn’t wait.

“Hey mom, can I talk to you?” he asked. He didn’t mean to ask, but he couldn’t help it; when you aren’t controlling your emotions, you also aren’t controlling what your emotions make you say.

She got up from the table wordlessly, taking off her glasses. They stepped out of the room before Mingyu’s father could ask any questions. Once they were alone, she spoke. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what my power is,” he said. He couldn’t help it; the words spilled out without his permission.

Then, something strange happened. Her face softened and her lips drew up into a small smile. And, Mingyu remembers this _very_ specifically; her mouth was closed. Still, he heard her voice.  **“It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure it out.”**

His eyes opened wide and his mouth hung open. Had he imagined it? He couldn't possibly be hearing his mothers thoughts...

She could sense the shift in emotion.  **“What’s wrong?”** she asked. Except, once again, her mouth didn’t open.

“I can hear you,” he said. His mother’s brow furrowed as she gave him a puzzled look. “No, I mean, I can hear your brain.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s great! What am I thinking now?” She cupped his face with her hands and stared intently into his eyes, trying to force her thoughts into his mind.

Nothing. Silence. Mingyu hadn’t the faintest clue what she was thinking about. “I… I don’t know…” he said. He really didn’t.

She sighed, her eyes shifting to the floor. Then he heard her again, slightly fainter this time.  **“That’s okay. I love you anyway, even if you are lying about your power.”**

Mingyu gasped. “I’m not lying about my power!” he exclaimed. His mother’s head snapped up. “I guess I can only hear you sometimes.”  
She laughed. “That’s good! Great!” she said. She was ecstatic for her son’s newfound ability, even though they weren’t exactly sure what it’s limits were yet.

“Kids, the bus is here!” His father yelled from the kitchen. Mingyu and his sister got on the bus, and as the bus started to move, he had an unmistakable feeling of peace rush over him. Sometimes, his mom would give Mingyu or his sister a gift on the day of a big test. If they were stressed enough, she’d give them the gift of peace. He caught her gaze from the kitchen window.  **“Good luck, honey.”** He heard her.

 

A few days later, and Mingyu still didn’t know what his power was. Minghao was over at his house— they were studying for a huge Chemistry test. Or, at least, they were  _supposed_ to be studying for a Chemistry test.

“So you can only hear some thoughts, right?” Minghao put his pencil down and got into a cross-legged position on the floor.

Mingyu didn’t look up from his textbook, but mumbled something affirmative.

“Okay, so have you thought about what the thoughts have in common? Like, why you only hear _those_ thoughts and not other ones?” Minghao had his eyes closed, concentrating hard.

Mingyu shrugged, flipping the page over and chewing on his pencil. He was only half-paying attention, anyway.

“Here,” Minghao slammed a piece of paper on Mingyu’s desk. “Write down what thoughts you can remember.”

Mingyu looked up at the boy in surprise. It wasn’t often that Minghao got angry, but when he did, it was scary. There was this one time when they were in 7th grade, Minghao stayed up all night doing a 5000 piece puzzle in Mingyu’s living room. Mingyu had been shaken awake violently at 4 am to Minghao screaming, “Where is it? Where’s the last piece?” Mingyu must’ve lost one by accident. They searched for 3 hours, but couldn’t find the piece anywhere. That was the night Mingyu learned that there is _nothing_ Minghao hates more than an unsolved problem.

He didn’t want to frustrate his best friend further, so he huffed and picked up his pencil.

_Mom- I love you, even though you lie._  
_Mom- it’s okay sweetie._  
_Jeonghan- Joshua sings so sweetly._  
_Jeonghan- I love Joshua._  
_Some girl in my home ec class- I really like her hair._  
_Minghao- Jun looks good today._  
_Seungkwan- I hope my mom is okay._  
_Joshua (at Jeonghan)- I love you._

He handed the list to Minghao. After about a minute and a half of thinking, the boy snapped his fingers. “Got it!” he yelled. He started fluttering around the room like crazy, his little wings blowing Mingyu’s Chemistry notes onto the floor.

“What?” Mingyu asked, hopeful. Maybe he’d  _finally_ get some answers.

“You see what all these have in common?” Mingyu looked at the list in Minghao’s hand, shaking his head. “They’re all genuine expressions of love! Nice thoughts! Kind thoughts!”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “I thought you were being serious,” he said, beginning to collect his notes off the floor and organize them.

“No, listen! I can prove it!” Minghao’s wings slowed down as he lowered to the ground. “Look at me, Gyu.”

Mingyu grumbled, but did what the flying boy commanded anyway. “What?”

“Can you hear this?” Minghao’s eyes narrowed as he focused.

Silence.

“Nope,” Mingyu said, popping the p. “See, I told you it wouldn— “

“Good, I was thinking about how much of a stubborn loser you are,” Minghao laughed.

“Hey, that’s not true!” Mingyu whined, pouting. He hated when Minghao was right (which was a lot).

“Is too,” Minghao narrowed his eyes again. “Now, listen.”

It was faint, but he heard it.  **“You’re my best friend.”**

Mingyu’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

“Right? You heard it, right?” Minghao started to fly around again. Mingyu wished the ground would swallow him whole. “You’re like cupid!”

“Ugh, will you shut up!” Mingyu buried his head in his hands as the other boy snickered.

Mingyu would’ve liked anything more than this. Why did he have to be stuck with such a useless power? What’s badass about hearing people’s “nice thoughts”? Who cares about love, anyway?


	2. cupid part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu hates his nickname... and everything else that comes with it.

It’s been a few months since Mingyu discovered his power and his opinion on the matter hasn’t changed. Everything about it is annoying; having to listen to people fawn, pine, and drool over each other gets sickening after a while. Mingyu hasn’t had the heart to tell anyone about it— everyone believes that he turns into a bat at night (kudos to Minghao for coming up with that one). It’s a cool enough cover story, but it isn’t so cool that people are asking him to show them what he can do. For some reason, no one cares to see Mingyu turn into a small, flying mammal. Not that he’s complaining— he  _can’t_ do that, even if they asked— but it hurts his pride.

The only person who knows is Minghao, who is constantly teasing him about it. He’s even given Mingyu a nickname, and a gross one at that. “Hey Cupid,” Minghao mutters, leaning over to Mingyu’s ear. The English teacher is giving a lecture about Shakespearean archetypes or motifs or something (Mingyu’s not  _entirely_ paying attention), so they have to keep their conversation hushed.

Mingyu exhales, glaring at Minghao. “I told you to stop calling me that,” he says, busying himself by doodling in the corner. His drawings, which used to be intricate portraits of friends, family, and himself, all look like scribbles these days.

“Never,” Minghao says, tapping Mingyu’s shoulder with the cap of his pen. “So Cupid, is anyone feeling particularly lovey-dovey today?”

Mingyu hates this the most. Every day, hell, every  _hour_ , Minghao asks him to scour the room for love-filled thoughts. Minghao has never had an affinity for gossip, but since Mingyu’s 15th birthday, he can’t seem to stop.

Despite how annoying his winged-friend is, Mingyu never misses an opportunity to flex his superhuman abilities. It’s the only super power he’ll ever have, after all, so he might as well milk the crap out of it.

Mingyu sighs and looks up from his paper. His eyes shift across the room as soft voices flutter around his head. If there’s one thing he likes about his power, it’s that the voices are always soft. Because they’re thinking such tender thoughts, the voices are never loud, scratchy, or unpleasant. If Mingyu tunes out exactly  _what_ they’re saying, it actually becomes quite soothing.

A boy is hiding his phone behind a copy of Hamlet. He is almost crying, scrolling through messages or emails. His nails are bitten to the quick and he’s bouncing his left leg on the floor. His voice stands out among the rest because, while everyone else is thinking about dates, crushes, or friends, this poor kid is thinking about his mother.  **“... the hospital. Is she sick? Is she hurt? I shouldn’t have left her alone… I should have been a better son. Mom deserves that. I don’t know what to do. What if she dies?”**

Not only is the boy’s thought out-of-the-ordinary, but the voice itself sounds different. The voice breaks at the end, and there are sobs and sniffles interspersed between the words. It sounds like he’s crying. It makes Mingyu’s heart hurt— no one should feel that sad when they’re thinking about the person they love.

“Well?” Minghao asks, following Mingyu’s gaze over to the boy. “What’s up with that guy?”

“Nothing,” Mingyu snaps, looking back at his notes. Then, to shut Minghao up, he adds, “The girl with glasses in the front row has a crush on the teacher.” If omission is considered lying, then Mingyu’s going to hell.

That seems to appease Minghao, who returns to listening to the teacher. Mingyu holds his breath for a few seconds before he decides that it’s safe to look back at the nervous boy. His mind is still rambling,  **“Oh no… I have to leave… I have to get to her,”** he looks up at the clock as his leg-bouncing becomes more rapid. **“Almost… class is almost ov—”**

The bell rings. Students start gathering their books and stuffing pencils into their bags. Everyone is moving at a normal pace except for the boy. Mingyu watches him gather his things into his arms and _run_ out of the room.

 

No one sees him for the rest of the day. One of Mingyu’s friends, Hansol, is especially concerned.

“What do you mean, ‘no one knows where he is’?” screams the younger boy at lunch. He slams his fist on the table, next to his untouched sandwich.

Minghao is nonchalant as he takes a bite out of an apple. “I mean,” he swallows, opening a bottle of water, “that no one knows where he is. He had English Lit with us earlier, but no one’s seen him since.”

“What if he got abducted? Kidnapped? Murdered?” Hansol is hysterical, nearly tearing his hair out and sending manic texts to the boy in question.

Mingyu hears how concerned Hansol is.  **“He’s so small and gentle— he could die out there alone. It’s fairly common for cute little boys to be kidnapped and Seungkwan’s pretty cute _and_ little. Oh Christ, he’s so emotional, too. What if he does something stupid?”**

Mingyu fights the urge to roll his eyes. He really shouldn’t be so insensitive because Hansol is clearly _very_ worried about this boy— Seungkwan— and how could he possibly know what’s going on. “I’m sure everything’s fine,” he says, patting Hansol gently on the shoulder. “In the meantime, you should eat something,” he pushes a bag of chips toward the boy.

Hansol absentmindedly takes one and places it in his mouth. “But what if— “

“Don’t worry, really. Just calm down. I’m sure Seungkwan’s fine,” Mingyu says, handing Hansol some water.

Minghao gives Mingyu a suspicious look. “Hey Cupid, how’d you know the kid’s name?”

 _Oh shit_. Mingyu forgot that he wasn’t supposed to know the boy’s name. He couldn’t tell Minghao that he had heard it in Hansol’s mind, at least not with Hansol sitting _right there_. “Umm…” he says, trying to think quickly. “He’s in our Lit class, duh. Don’t you think I should know his name?”

Minghao shrugs, “Whatever. _I_ didn’t, but whatever”.

The rest of lunch passed quickly as the topic of conversation shifted to something more lighthearted. Still, Mingyu couldn’t tune out the incessant buzzing in the back of his mind. If he paid attention, he could make out some words.  **“Seungkwan… is he okay… is he okay…”** It’s funny; usually, Mingyu had to focus in order to hear people’s thoughts. He had to channel his energy towards or at least _look_ at the person. Hansol’s thoughts are louder than most, however, and Mingyu can’t seem to tune them out, no matter how much he tries.

After the three are finished eating (and worrying), they walk to their last class together. The gym locker rooms are one of Mingyu’s favorite places in the school. He doesn’t quite know why this is; maybe it’s because they’re always clean and smell nice, maybe it’s because they’re always empty and give Mingyu space to think, or maybe it’s because he knows what’s in store once he steps into the Gym.

Physical Education is the most interesting course of the day. Not only are the three boys extremely fit and athletic, but sports are always more fun when powers are involved. Phys Ed is the only class that students are encouraged to practice their powers in. It may not be the  _safest_ option, but it sure makes a good game.

Minghao’s feet leave the gym floor almost as quickly as they’d touched it. He isn’t the only student who can fly, but he’s the only one who has wings. Some girls can float around or hover a few feet above the ground, but no one flies as gracefully as Minghao.

“Damn, I wish my power would come in handy,” mumbles Mingyu, crossing his arms and blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes. His eyes follow Minghao around as the flying boy tossed a ball around in the air.

“Awe, c’mon, I’m sure it’s not  _that_ bad,” the kid peers around to get a good look at Mingyu’s face. He snaps his fingers as he comes to a realization, “Hey, you’re that bat-boy, right?”

Mingyu sighs, side-eyeing the boy. He grunts to confirm— damn, it feels bad to lie.

“Oh come on, that’s cool! You should love your power!” he flashes a blinding smile that causes his eyes to disappear. **“Awesome!”** Mingyu can hear the genuine compliment and smiles. _If only it were true_ , he thinks.

After a few seconds of silence, Mingyu speaks. “What’s your name, anyway?” he asks, uncrossing his arms. There’s no need to put up a cold front. This kid seems nice enough.

The same smile breaks across the boy’s face. “I’m Smile Man Seokmin!” he yells, bringing his hands up to his face. He then makes a gesture that looks like a blooming flower with his face at the center. “What’s your name?”

“Mingyu,” he responds, giving a little nod. “Why’re you called ‘Smile Man’?”

“I’ll show you,” Seokmin says, wiggling his fingers in the air. “Try to guess my power.” He grins and puts his hands at his sides. Mingyu is confused, but not for long. As soon as Seokmin begins showcasing his ability, it’s impossible to be confused.

All he can do is laugh.

There is tickling  _everywhere_. Mingyu can feel finger tips fluttering over his stomach, armpits, and the soles of his feet. Anywhere that can be tickled, is.

He collapses in a fit of giggles, rolling around on the floor until he feels like he’s about to vomit. People are beginning to stare at Mingyu, who has tears streaming down his face, and Seokmin, who’s standing calmly by his side. “Ha-ha-hey, please,” Mingyu sputters. “St-ah-ah-p!”

The tickling stops as suddenly as it began.

“I have telekinetic tickling powers!” Seokmin shouts, laughing and clapping his hands in delight. Mingyu wipes his tears and holds his stomach, staring at the giddy boy with equal parts fascination and fear.

A boy wearing a sweatband approaches them as Mingyu gets up. “I’m not sure how scientifically accurate that title is, DK,” he says, patting Seokmin on the shoulder.

“Well, you know what I mean, Hosh,” says Seokmin, throwing his hands in the air in mock-exasperation.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” says the other kid, letting his hand rest on Seokmin’s back. “Hi! I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Soonyoung!” He sticks out his hand, smiling cheerfully.

Mingyu shakes Soonyoung’s hand apprehensively. “You’re not gonna tickle me or something, right?”

Although Soonyoung is laughing, Mingyu doesn’t understand what’s so funny. Why are these two always laughing? “Nah, I don’t have a power  _nearly_ as abrasive as ma boy Seokmin.”

“Maybe not as abrasive, but twice as awesome,” interjects Seokmin.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I swear, it’s not that cool,” he starts. After pausing for a few seconds, Mingyu gestures for him to continue. “I can run really fast and lift heavy stuff. That’s about it.”

“He’s superhuman!” Seokmin screams, making wild hand movements as he speaks.

Hoshi giggles, shaking his head gently.  **“You’re too much.”** He stares at Seokmin for a few seconds before protesting.

“We’re all  _technically_ superhuman,” he says.

Seokmin shrugs. “All I’m saying is your power is what the kids call ‘lit’.” He makes a peace sign and crosses his arms.

 **“You’re so cute,”** Soonyoung thinks. “You’re an embarrassment to society,” Soonyoung says.

It’s strange watching Soonyoung and Seokmin interact, especially from Mingyu’s perspective. They interact like an old married couple, which only makes Mingyu more uncomfortable. Witnessing this feels wrong— it doesn’t help that he can hear their softest thoughts, either.

Mingyu wanted to leave them alone, but his friends were preoccupied. Minghao was whizzing around the room, trying to impress the only other Chinese guy in their class, and Hansol was worrying in the corner. He also didn’t want to be alone. Ordinarily, being alone was fine. He used to love being left with his thoughts and allowing his imagination to roam as it pleased. These days, however, being alone has lost it’s appeal. He’s no longer alone with his feelings; he’s with everyone else’s, too.

So, Mingyu sucks it up and spends the rest of the period with Seokmin and Soonyoung, who both have sweet thoughts  _very_ frequently. Every few seconds, Mingyu hears  **“Awe, what a cute kid,”** from Soonyoung or  **“Why’s he self conscious about his eyes? He has nothing to worry about,”** from Seokmin. All of this chatter is giving Mingyu a headache.

When the bell rings, he lingers in the empty locker room a bit longer than he should, causing him to miss the bus. Not that he minds— the streets on his walk home are empty, giving him space to think without someone’s secret “I love you”s interrupting. Now, all Mingyu hears are his sneakers hitting the pavement.

He takes his time walking home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for the kind feedback... it makes me super excited to continue writing!
> 
> Okay... Wonwoo will probably be introduced in the next chapter, so get ready! I appreciate your patience :)  
> Also, I'm still deciding whether to make Soonseok a couple or not-- I dunno, they feel more like a brotp to me. Who knows, though.. I might change my mind hehe


	3. double dates and dog whisperers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hansol turns 15 and Mingyu is a genius.

The morning of Hansol’s fifteenth birthday is a strange one. He’s wearing the dopiest grin as he waltzes into class, clutching his books close to his chest and attempting to whistle. He can’t carry a tune for the life of him.

 **“He’s so happy,”** Seungkwan thinks, resting his chin on his hand. Mingyu had noticed the two boys getting closer since Seungkwan went M.I.A. It turned out that his mother had slipped on an icy sidewalk and hurt her hip. It was nothing serious, and she was let out of the hospital after a few examinations. She didn’t even need surgery.

“What’s shakin’, birthday boy?” Minghao makes finger guns at Hansol. “Is your power swag money or what?”

Mingyu cringes. “Did you just legitimately use ‘swag money’ in a serious sentence?” Usually, Minghao knew how to sound badass, but this was just embarrassing.

The Chinese boy shrugs. “ _He_ says it all the time,” he gestures to Hansol, “Why can’t I?” That earns Minghao a  _yeah boi_ and high-five from Hansol.

“You guys are impossible,” Mingyu rolls his eyes.

“Impossibl... _y cool_ ,” Hansol laughs, high-fiving Minghao again.

After a few seconds of laughing, Minghao remembers his original question. “So,” he starts, putting both of his hands flat on the desk and leaning forward toward Hansol, “what’s your power?”

The grin returns to Hansol’s face. “I can talk to dogs,” he says nonchalantly. “And birds. And ants. Maybe more.”

Minghao’s jaw drops. “I. LOVE. DOGS.” His voice is stern and final.  **“Dogsdogsdogsdogsdogs…”** Mingyu hears. He has to stop himself from laughing out loud at his best friend; it’s not his fault he  _really_ likes dogs.

“Yeah,” Hansol opens his notebook to a fresh sheet and begins to copy something off of the board. He is oblivious to Minghao’s eyes attempting to burn holes in the back of his head.

“Well?!” Minghao yells suddenly, causing Hansol and Seungkwan to jump. Mingyu would’ve jumped too, but he saw this coming; Minghao really  _really_ likes dogs.

The two younger boys stare at Minghao for a second, stuck in a state confusion. Minghao doesn’t say anything else, he just stares at Hansol until he gets the hint. “Do you wanna know what they say?”

Minghao nods vigorously. “I don’t really care about birds or ants. Just the dogs.”

Mingyu chuckles.  _They don’t know the half of it_ , he thinks.

“Well,” Hansol begins, putting down his pencil and shifting himself in his seat until he is facing Minghao. “I have a dog, Lizzy’s her name, and she was hella chatty this morning. As soon as I woke up, all I could hear was ‘Hey hey hey hey are you awake yet are you awake yet, looks like you’re awake, yay you’re awake, I have to pee, c’mon hurry I have to pee, now, if you don’t hurry I’m gonna bark, I’m gonna bark…’ and stuff like that.”

Minghao’s holding onto Hansol’s every word with utmost attention. He continues to nod his head, encouraging the boy to keep talking.

“Then, well, I kinda told her to shut up. But it was weird,” he shakes his head to himself, “I didn’t talk like I normally talk— I mean, it wasn’t some telepathy shit either, but it wasn’t normal talking. It was like speaking a different language. I asked Sofia what I sounded like when I was talking to animals, and she said that I just sounded normal. I dunno… it was lit though.” Hansol chuckles a little to himself, “Lizzy was tripping balls, too. I’ve never seen an animal look so flustered— it was hilarious. And she shut up, too, which was a plus.”

“THAT’S SO GODDAMN COOL,” Minghao screams at the top of his lungs. The rest of the class turns their heads toward them as the room goes silent. Minghao really really  _really_ likes dogs, okay?

Hansol shrugs. “I guess,” he says, turning back to his paper.

Minghao is about to say something about how Hansol ‘doesn’t deserve a power that special’, but the teacher comes into the room and class begins. Minghao will be sure to chew the new 15 year old out at lunch, though.

 

“Hey, guess what,” Minghao says, looking up from his phone. He appeared at Mingyu’s front door a few hours ago and decided to stay the night. Not that Mingyu minded; he is so used to the other boy’s presence that it doesn’t bother him. They just do what they would ordinarily do alone… but together.

So, naturally, Minghao has been scrolling through Twitter for the past 40 minutes and Mingyu is doing an overdue project. Technically, it was due yesterday, but he was able to charm the teacher into giving him an extension.

_(“Please Mrs. Kang,” Mingyu said, flashing his canines and putting his hands together in a pleading motion. He hated making this smile; it always felt so contrived and uncomfortable. “I promise it’ll be done by Monday.”_

_She sighed. “Okay, but only because you’re normally a very dependable student,” she paused, shuffling some papers and putting them into her bag. The classroom was empty because everyone had already left for lunch. “But it has to be in my hands at the beginning of class.”_

_He smiled, this time more genuinely. “You got it, ma’am!” He made a salute, shouting, “I won’t let you down!”_

_Mrs. Kang pushed past Mingyu, chuckling. **“What a precious kid,”** she thought. “Okay, run along now. I’m hungry and I have to go to a business lunch,”_ _she ushered him out of the door before locking it.)_

“What?” Mingyu responds absentmindedly, not bothering to look up from his work. His tongue is stuck out in concentration as he glues diagrams to the posterboard. “This is gonna be the best goddamn project she’s ever laid eyes on,” he mumbles to himself.

“It just occurred to me,” Minghao shifts his weight on the bed so that the springs creak. “We don’t actually  _know_ Seungkwan’s power.”

Mingyu spares the other boy a quick glance. “You mean to say that kid’s  _fifteen_?” Mingyu says, laughing. “He doesn’t even look like he dresses himself.”

“Yeah, his birthday’s in January, I think. Hansol told me.” Minghao says. After a few seconds of silence, he grows impatient. “So?!” he yells, expecting an answer from Mingyu.

The only problem is that Mingyu doesn’t know what the question was. “So what?” he retorts, trying to make it sound like he’s paying attention.

“Isn’t it weird?” Minghao sits up on the bed so that his wings can poke out of his shirt. He starts to fly around the room, whirring and talking up a storm. “Like, Hansol told us what  _his_ power was on the day he turned fifteen. How come we don’t know Seungkwan’s?”

Mingyu still isn’t entirely paying attention. “Finished!” he exclaims, holding his poster a few feet away from his face so that he can admire it properly. He stows it away in his backpack and returns to his desk chair. “Now, what were you saying?”

Minghao grunts. “I was _saying_ ,” he begins, rolling his eyes as obviously as he can. “That we don’t know Seungkwan’s power, and it’s weird that we don’t know, and I  _want_ to know.”

"Well, people don't know my _real_ power, but I know what you mean," After thinking for a few seconds, Mingyu has an idea. “Okay, let’s see him tomorrow,” he suggests. “You could invite him over or something. It’s Saturday, so he shouldn’t be busy.”

Minghao’s face lights up. “That’s a great idea! You’re a genius, Kim Mingyu.” He unlocks his phone and starts typing.

“I know.” Mingyu smiles. It doesn’t feel bad to hear it every once in a while, though.

“I’m texting him now,” Minghao says. He mumbles the words as he types them. “Hey… are… you busy… tomorrow… question mark… Mingyu… and I… wanna chill…. period... you can… come over… to Mingyu’s if you wanna… send.”

The little speech bubble pops up. “He’s typing,” Minghao says to Mingyu. “He says that Hansol is with him right now and that they were planning to go to the park tomorrow.”

“So that’s a ‘no’, right?” Mingyu asks, swiveling around in his desk chair.

It takes Minghao some time to respond. “Nope! He says that we can join them!” Minghao claps excitedly. “Anytime after 3, by the duck pond!”

“Okay, cool,” Mingyu says, laughing. “Invite Jun, it could be a like double date.”

Minghao blushes and almost chucks his phone at the taller boy. He thinks better of it, though, deciding that his already-cracked screen shouldn’t get any worse. “I don’t even like him, shuttup,” he says, lowering himself onto the ground. **“I actually love him.”**

“I heard that, you idiot,” he cackles, choking on spit. “You forget that I can read your ‘lovey dovey thoughts’, man.”

“Shit,” Minghao turns even redder than before and begins to flutter around the room. He always gets like this when he has a crush— all antsy and embarrassed. The only difference, however, between this crush and the others is that he can’t hide it from Mingyu. Mingyu can hear  _everything_ , even the things he shouldn’t. “Well, it wouldn’t be a double date anyway. You’d be there.”

Mingyu shrugs. “No Mingyu, no problem. I like to sleep in anyway.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow as his wings slow down. “Until 3 pm?”

Once again, Mingyu shrugs.  _Indifference looks cool on anyone,_ he always says.

“I barely know the guy,” Minghao says, putting his feet on the floor and hanging his head.  **“But I’d like to.”**

“Then invite him, Jesus Christ! I can read your fucking heart, and it’s screaming at you to take a chance!” Mingyu throws his hands in the air. Minghao has always been a perfectionist, so he never builds up the courage to take risks.

Minghao’s quiet for a long time as he stares at his feet. All of the sudden, he snaps his fingers and looks Mingyu dead in the eyes. “That’s it!” He screams, his face breaking out into a smile. “Oh my god, how have I not thought of this before!” Minghao starts to giggle and fly around the room again, clearly very excited.

“What?” Mingyu asks.

“Well, you can read hearts, right?” Minghao says, getting closer to Mingyu’s face. His feet lift above his head until he is at an awkward angle that allows him to get face-to-face with a sitting Mingyu while simultaneously not touching the ground. “Why not read Junhui’s?”

“Okay, well…”

“Great, I’ll call Jun right now!” Minghao whips out his phone almost  _too_ quickly. It threatens to fly out of his hands, but doesn’t follow through.

Jun answers on the third ring, “Hi Jun! It’s Minghao from Gym.. haha, yeah the one with wings… I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the park tomorrow with me and a bunch of guys… oh, I don’t think you know them… Hansol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu… Oh, really? You’ll come? That’s great…” Minghao pauses and his face falls slightly. “Yeah that’s fine. The more the merrier, right? Shouldn’t be a problem… At 3, by the duck pond… See you then.... Bye!”

“So what’s the plan,” Mingyu asks as soon as Minghao hangs up.  **“I’m going on a date with Wen Junhui.”**

“He said he’s definitely coming,” Minghao says, grinning like an idiot. “And that he’s bringing some kid who just transferred here. Apparently he’s a friend of Jun’s cousin.”

“You’re jealous,” Mingyu pokes Minghao’s feet, which are floating uncomfortably close to his head.

Minghao’s voice hushes. “You heard that?”

A smile creeps up Mingyu’s lips. “Nope.”

“I hate you,” Minghao says, lowering himself back onto Mingyu’s bed. “But I think I need you to be there tomorrow, unfortunately.”

Mingyu sighs. “I thought I was gonna have the afternoon to myself.”

Minghao makes finger guns, raising his voice. “Think again, Cupid! We’re going on a double date!”

“Speak for yourself,” Mingyu says, getting up from the chair to sit next to Minghao on the bed. “I’m just gonna be a 5th… actually 6th… wheel. What’s the other dude’s name?”

Minghao furrows his brow, thinking for a second. “Wonwoo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOrryy guys, I know I said that Wonwoo would be in this one but it didn't feel right, ya know?? Even still, the next chapter is gonna be a lil longer and probably won't be out for a few days.  
> I like how this is supposed to be a meanie fic, but it's mostly Mingyu and Minghao bickering... how do you guys like 'Vernon the Dog Whisperer'? 
> 
> I appreciate everyone's patience and kind words. The feedback warms my heart and motivates me to write, so thank you so much!
> 
> btw y'all can hit up my tumblr and twitter (@acceptuality) if you wanna !! I don't bite hehe


	4. the duck pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu learns some things about Seungkwan... and himself.

Minghao’s head over heals, which _would_ be considered a good thing under different circumstances, but at 3 am, it’s just annoying. Mingyu was sick of listening to his thoughts, and moreover, his dreams. “You’re so goddamn  _loud_ ,” Mingyu complained, rolling onto his back.

The other boy just moaned softly, shuffling in his sleep. This was something Mingyu had figured out last week; he didn’t always hear voices. Sometimes, he’d see images or even feel sensations. One of the most common of these was feeling a kiss on his cheek. It wasn’t rare for someone to be daydreaming about such a thing in the middle of math class, no matter how revolting. It always manages to make Mingyu blush, though he’d never admit it.

That kept happening now. He could feel lips touching his own, over and over. He looked over at Minghao, sleeping peacefully. Oh, how he wished for the same kind of peace.

It was some time around 4 am when Mingyu finally drifted to sleep. The words **“I love you”** echoed in the back of his mind, and despite his discomfort with listening in on his best friend’s most personal thoughts, he couldn’t help but smile. No matter how cynical and tired you are, love will always be beautiful.

He wakes up to Minghao shaking him. “Dude, come on! You overslept!” Minghao is bundled up in a wool scarf and a plaid, fleece lined jacket. He looks soft and sweet, like a child who has been dressed by his mother. Not to mention his thoughts, which were equally as cute, saying  **“It’s time to go see Jun-hui… it’s time to go see Jun-hui…”** in a singsong voice.

Mingyu looks at the clock. The neon green light reads, “2:45 pm”. He jumps out of the bed and pulls on proper pants and a shirt. “What the hell, why didn’t you wake me sooner?” He doesn’t have time to wash or style his hair, so he throws a hoodie on to pull over his bedhead.

Minghao cocks his head to the right. “You looked so peaceful…” he says, looking concerned. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind disturbing me when you kept me up all night,” Mingyu mumbles bitterly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Mingyu blurts, splashing on cologne and applying deodorant. “Let’s go.”

 

By the time they make it to the duck pond, it’s ten minutes after three. Minghao’s brain is a jumbled, embarrassed mess the entire walk there.  **“What if Jun thinks we are standing him up? What if he leaves? _Oh no_ , he probably hates me and thinks I’m a lazy snob who can’t make it anywhere on time…”** Minghao’s heart is  _so annoying_ , to the extent that Mingyu is tempted to tell him to shut up.

Luckily, they find Hansol and Seungkwan sitting on a bench, huddled together and holding hands, alone. It seems that Jun and his friend are running even later than they are.

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Mingyu mutters as Minghao and him approach the happy couple. Neither Hansol nor Seungkwan are saying anything, but Mingyu can hear every single thought they’re thinking. In Seungkwan’s head, he can see Hansol’s face. Hansol is thinking in words, saying,  **“This was such a good idea, I wish the other guys would never show up.”**

It makes Mingyu almost feel  _bad_ about plopping himself down next to Seungkwan on the bench, but that is quickly forgotten when the voices stop.  _Good, I don’t have to listen to you guys being all in love and stupid for the next few hours_ , he thinks. Even still, he did feel a little guilty about ruining the moment.

“Oh hey! How’re you guys doing?” Seungkwan squeals enthusiastically, bringing Minghao into an embrace. Hansol smiles, but Mingyu can sense the tiniest twinge of jealousy.

“Great… I guess Junhui is running a little late,” Minghao says, checking the time on his phone. He rubs his hands together and stuffs them in his pockets. The weather is has barely begun to turn into spring, so it’s still cold out. Everyone’s breath hangs in the air.

Something unprecedented happens. Suddenly, Mingyu sees a burst of light pop into Seungkwan’s head. There is a picture of Junhui and Minghao by the duck pond, holding hands and laughing. Minghao is wearing his wool scarf tightly around his neck, and Jun has a puffy, bright red down jacket on.

It seems so real.

Mingyu wonders why the  _hell_ Seungkwan is thinking of the two Chinese boys being all coupley and shit, but his thoughts are interrupted before they can mature into anything substantial. “Jun’ll be here in a minute or two,” Seungkwan says surely, nodding his head.

Hansol takes the boy’s hand in his own and pats it lightly. “Speak of the devil…” he says, waving with his free hand.

Jun has his hair parted and styled, making him look like a model, and he has another slender boy by his side with equally nice hair. Jun claps Minghao on the back as they begin to talk and the other boy begins to talk to Mingyu.

Only Mingyu isn’t listening. He gasps, taking in a breath and forgetting to release it.

Jun is wearing a puffy, bright red down jacket. He reaches to Minghao, saying something softly and tying the wool scarf a little tighter.

“Oh my god,” Mingyu whispers, looking from Seungkwan to Minghao to Junhui to Seungkwan again. “Wait a second,” he says, turning to the new kid, who has been talking for the past minute or so. Mingyu hasn’t heard a word of it, though.

The new boy hangs his head in embarrassment as Mingyu pushes past him towards Seungkwan. “Hey,” he says, keeping his voice quiet. In order to confirm his thoughts, he has to tell Seungkwan his true power. This new kid is a stranger and he barely knows Jun, so he doesn’t necessarily want them knowing that he can hear their hearts. He will gladly allow them to believe he can transform into a bat, just like the rest of the school.

“What?” Seungkwan says, equally as hushed. Hansol leans in to hear better, which Mingyu doesn’t mind. He  _does_ know Hansol better than Seungkwan, after all.

“Ummm, so…” he says, making small hand movements toward the Chinese boys. They have ventured off by themselves, and are currently laughing and holding hands by the duck pond. “Doesn’t this look familiar?”

“What do you mean?” Seungkwan responds, genuinely looking confused. No matter how puzzled Seungkwan looks, however, Hansol mimics it tenfold.

Mingyu clears his throat. “Like,” he mumbles, trying not to look too suspicious. “Haven’t you seen this before?”

Seungkwan’s eyes go wide. “How’d you know that?” His lips form the words, but no sound comes out.

“It’s complicated,” Mingyu says, a little louder this time. Jun and Minghao are out of earshot, anyway. What does he have to worry about, anyway?

“Not as complicated as Kwannie’s power,” Hansol chimes in. He looks at Seungkwan. “Mind if I tell him?”

Seungkwan rouges and nods. “Go ahead.” Hansol smiles.  **“Cute.”**

“So,” Hansol says, returning his eyes to the taller boy. “Seungkwan is kinda clairvoyant. But like, only sometimes.”

Mingyu furrows his brow. “What do you ‘kinda’?” he says, making air quotations. “And what do you mean ‘sometimes’?”

“I mean,” Hansol begins. “That he can only see into the very near future, and tha—”

Mingyu cuts him off. “How near?”

“I dunno, a couple minutes?” Hansol shrugs, looking to Seungkwan for confirmation. He only nods. “And he can only see stuff every once in a while. We haven’t found a trend in the stuff he sees. I think it’s just random. Sometimes, he just sees what’ll happen in a few minutes.”

“It’s so stupid, I know,” Seungkwan says, shaking his head a little.

“No it isn’t,” Hansol corrects him, patting his hand soothingly. “It’s pretty lit, in fact.”

Seungkwan smiles. “Ugh, you’re so  _dumb_.”   **“I’m the luckiest teenage boy to ever walk this earth.”**

 _No time like the present_ , Mingyu thinks. He figures he might as well tell them the truth. He looks Seungkwan dead in the eyes and repeats, “I am the luckiest teenage boy to ever walk this earth.”

“What the hell did you just say?” The couple says in unison; Hansol looks angry and Seungkwan looks shocked.

“Yeah. I, umm, can read thoughts,” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck before adding, “... sometimes.”

Hansol’s expression softens as he turns his focus back to Seungkwan. “You were really thinking that?” he says softly, offering a gentle smile to the blushing boy.

“What? Yeah, I guess, but listen, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. You weren’t supposed to hea—” Hansol leans in, pressing a kiss into Seungkwan’s mouth. Mingyu kinda wants to vomit or die, but somewhere beneath his disgust, he finds it sweet.

Mingyu has learned a very important lesson since he turned fifteen; love is like sugar. Everyone loves sugar, and with prolonged exposure, everyone craves it. Sugar is delicious, but try eating an entire birthday cake in one sitting and you’re guaranteed to feel sick.

That’s what it feels like to be constantly exposed to all this genuine  _sap_. Mingyu loves love as much as the next guy, but after so damn  _much_ of it, he feels sick to his stomach.

After a few minutes of sucking face, the two guys pull off of each other. Mingyu is still standing there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and averting his eyes. “So, what do  _you_ mean by ‘sometimes’?” Hansol asks, trying to pick up where they left off.

Mingyu takes a second to remember what he’d said. “Oh yeah, well, I can only read thoughts stemming from genuine love,” he says, trying to seem nonchalant. “It can be any kind of love really… platonic, romantic, familial, _anything_. I hear when people are concerned about each other or head over heals for each other or excited to see each other. That sorta thing.”

Seungkwan’s mouth is pinker than it normal is (probably from the kissing). “That’s so sweet!” he says, clasping his hands together and looking so goddamn  _enamoured_ that Mingyu actually cracks a smile.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I kinda hate it though,” he mutters, just quiet enough for himself to hear it.

“You’re like Cupid!” Seungkwan yells, smiling and clapping his hands like a child.

Mingyu sighs. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to have told me that.”

They stand in a triangle of awkward silence for a few seconds before Mingyu ushers the two lovebirds away. Not only will they have time to themselves, but after they get a certain distance away from Mingyu, he won’t have to listen to their lovesick thoughts.

He sighs heavily when the two of them are out of his power’s “earshot”. He puts his head in his hands, “I have the absolute  _worst_ power ever,” he yells into his palms.

A new voice intrudes on his daily episode of self-pity.  **“No you don’t,”** it says.

He whips his head around. The boy who Jun brought is standing no more than 10 feet away from him, frowning with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt. Now that Mingyu has time to stop and actually  _look_ at the kid, he looks fucking freezing.

And sad. The boy looks very sad.

Out of discomfort, Mingyu rubs the back of his neck again. “How much of that did you hear?” he mumbles, a little ashamed of himself. He’s not sure why, but he feels guilty.

“All of it,” he says, aloud this time. Mingyu’s surprised the boy could hear him. “And I would kill to have your power.”

“C’mon, I’m sure yours isn’t _that_ bad,” he tries consoling the boy. The more Mingyu looks at him, the sadder and colder the boy appears. It weighs on Mingyu’s heart like a bad of sand.

The boy chuckles bitterly, but doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, shivering, with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging down.

“What is it?” There is a tone of concern in Mingyu’s voice. The boy doesn’t respond, so he repeats the question a little louder. “What’s your power?”

The boy frowns, pushing his wire-framed glasses up on the bridge of his nose where they had been sliding down. “That’s a question for a different time. For now, let’s start with names.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, not wanting to pressure this already uncomfortable boy any further. “I’m Mingyu.”

“Hi Mingyu,” the boy says, moving closer to Mingyu until there is scarcely a foot of space between them. He sticks out his hand. “I’m Wonwoo. Nice to meet you.”

Wonwoo’s hand feels like ice. Mingyu isn’t the only one to be thinking that, it seems, because as their fingers intertwine in the handshake, Mingyu hears a  **“Warm,”** in the back of his mind.

Mingyu can’t stand it. Wonwoo looks so fragile and cold, not to mention _sad_ , that hurts Mingyu’s heart. He doesn’t exactly understand _why_ he feels so strongly for the kid, but he does. There’s no point denying it. He pulls his hand away.

In school, Mingyu has always been at the top of his class. He earns straight As in every class, and possesses extreme proficiency in science. He breezes through every test, completes every assignment, and goes above and beyond on every project. Despite his unparalleled booksmarts, he never quite developed his people skills. Mingyu is bad at interacting with people; he’s awkward and often bumbles over his words, trying to appear casual. This usually ends up making him look like an idiot.

This is no exception.

“Wow, it sure is hot out today!” Mingyu yells, taking off his hood. He pulls his sweatshirt off over his head. “I’m so warm, do you wanna wear this?” He offers Wonwoo the hoodie.

The corner of Wonwoo’s mouth quirks up as he gives the taller boy a once-over. “Really?”

Mingyu looks and sounds like a dumbass, wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans in the middle of February. “O-of course!” He attempts to stifle a stutter, but fails. “I’m really overheating today!” His breath hangs in the air as he puts his hoodie in Wonwoo’s arms,emphasizing how stupid he sounds

“Okay, if you insist,” Wonwoo looks at Mingyu, clearly amused. He pulls the sweatshirt over his body and takes a deep breath. “This is really warm, thanks.”

There’s already some color returning to Wonwoo’s cheeks. Mingyu thinks he looks much cuter this way; bundled in Mingyu’s too-big pullover, rosy-cheeked and smiling. “D-don’t mention it.”

Mingyu’s phone buzzes inside the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Oh, you’re phone just vibrated,” Wonwoo reaches into the pocket and hands Mingyu the phone.

Mingyu has two notifications; one from Minghao and one from Hansol, both saying something similar. Minghao said, “jun is taking me out to a movie and dinner… don’t wait up”, and Hansol said, “we went home. have fun with jun’s friend lol.”

“I think we’re on our own,” he says, sighing. “You don’t have to hang around with me… you can go home if you want.”

 **“No,”** Wonwoo thinks.

Mingyu can’t help but smile. He’s quick to cover up his satisfaction, “Actually, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat or something.”

“Really?” Wonwoo looks giddy with excitement and it warms Mingyu’s heart more than any thought he’s heard in a long time. “Where do you wanna go?”

It is now that Mingyu realizes that he doesn’t have any money on him. He never intended on doing anything other than listening to Jun’s thoughts for Minghao. Oh how his plans have changed. “How about coming back to my house?” he asks. “I actually can cook pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

Wonwoo smiles and nods. “Okay, yeah, that sounds good,” he says. As they start to walk in the direction of Mingyu’s house, Wonwoo’s phone makes a dinging noise.

He checks it. “Crap,” he mutters. His face is sad when he meets Mingyu’s eyes. “I need to go.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, trying to conceal his disappointment. He rubs the back of his neck again as words begin to tumble out of his mouth. “Rain check? If you’re hungry tomorrow night, you can come over? My parents will be at my sister’s track meet until 8, so we don’t have to worry about being in the way or anything, and like I said, I can coo—”

Wonwoo laughs, flashing his teeth, closing his eyes, and scrunching up his nose. Mingyu’s never heard such a sweet sound before. “That’d be great! I’ll text you, okay?” He says, handing his phone to Mingyu. “Put your number here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mingyu says, typing in his phone number. “Sounds good!”

Wonwoo starts to take off the sweatshirt, but Mingyu stops him. “You sure you don’t want it back?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Not now. Keep it.” Goosebumps raise on every inch of exposed skin, punctuating his words.

“Thanks,” Wonwoo smiles. **"Smells like you. It’s nice.”**

That overheard thought is enough to keep Mingyu warm as he walks home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I MADE YOU GUYS WAIT SO LONG AHHH... I just barely have time to breathe these days, let alone write some shitty meanie fanfiction lol.   
> look forward to some fluffy stuff in the future (and I doooo have like a chapter and a half of angst planned somewhere along the way... so keep ur eyes peeled)  
> pls talk to me on tumblr and twitter @acceptuality ... I love people yay   
> It'll probably be another week before I update this, but it'll be good. I promise :)  
> As always, thanks for reading and commenting!! it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside hehe


	5. the fish tank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu and Wonwoo spend time together and they both realize just how awkward they are. Also, something about that fish tank makes everyone sad.

Mingyu receives a text from an unknown number at exactly 9:36 am.  _hey it’s wonwoo. do u still want me to come over or was that a joke?_

Mingyu smiles at his phone, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He doesn’t know why— he only just met the guy— but he’s grinning like an idiot and blushing a shade of light pink. _Nah, it wasn’t a joke. You free at like 3 ish?_

The little bubbles appear on the chat screen to indicate that Wonwoo’s responding rather quickly. _Yeah_ , he types.

 _Cool_ , Mingyu types, trying to sound nonchalant and “chill”. He sends his address to Wonwoo, who doesn’t respond for 10 minutes. After getting a thumbs-up emoji from him, Mingyu sets his phone down and rolls out of bed.

His stomach growls as he walks to the kitchen. The rest of his family is already dressed, even his father, who’s never been a morning person. “Morning, sweetie,” Mingyu’s mother says, barely looking up from her purse. She’s digging through it, looking for  _something_ that she must’ve misplaced.

Mingyu grunts, grabbing a box of cereal from the cupboard. He sits down at the table next to his father, who has a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose as he tries to type something into his phone. “What’s the address, Nana?” He asks, calling Mingyu’s mother by her first name.

“Oh my _god_ , just let me do it,” Minseo, Mingyu’s sister, interjects. She gets up from her seat and Mingyu is able to see her entire outfit. She’s already wearing her team sweatshirt and a pair of running shoes.

“Oh, so  _that’s_ how you do it,” Mingyu’s father gasps, watching Minseo press the keys in awe.

She hands the phone back to him. “Here.” She picks up her gym duffel bag and walks toward the front door. “We should probably leave now, it’s like a two and half hour drive.”

“What?!” Mingyu’s father jumps out of his seat.

“Ah-ha!” Mingyu’s mother pulls her keys from out of the recesses of her handbag. “Okay, let’s hit the road.”  
“Wait, how long’s the drive?” Mingyu’s father is looking a little redder than usual.

Luckily, Mingyu’s mom has always been a pro at calming people down. Even without using her powers, she has a heightened emotional intuition. She was born with a little bit of magic in her system; Mingyu’s sure of it.

He watches as his mother takes his father’s hand. “It’s okay. I can drive, if you’d like,” she speaks softly, using a voice reserved only for Mingyu’s dad. **“Don’t be stressed,”** Mingyu hears. The corners of his mouth quirk up a bit as he takes another bite of his cereal.

Mingyu’s father takes a deep breath. “Would you mind?” He asks lightly.

She jingles the keys in her hand, “Of course not. Let’s go.”

They follow Minseo to the door. His mother yells over her shoulder, “Be good! We won’t be home til late!”

Mingyu’s father gives a little wave and closes the door behind them.

 

Mingyu doesn’t know how the time passes so quickly, but before he knows it, it’s 2 o clock in the afternoon and he’s standing in the middle of his bedroom in his boxers, panicking about what to wear. “Oh my god, Mingyu, pull it together,” he scolds himself in the mirror, waving his finger at his reflection. “It doesn’t even matter. Wonwoo’s just another dude, one of the guys, who cares what I wear.”

Running a hand through his damp hair, Mingyu sighs. Despite sounding certain, he can’t bring himself to actually put on the clothes. It doesn’t matter, it  _shouldn’t_ matter, but Mingyu cares a bit more than he’d like to admit.

He spends a solid ten minutes trying on clothes, texting Minghao for help and getting no response, and discarding unwanted clothing onto the floor in a pile.

He ends up putting on his plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. It’s his house, after all, so he assumes it would look strange if he wore actual clothes. No one actually gets dressed on the weekend, anyway.

He styles his hair (which takes twice as long as the whole “what do I wear” fiasco) and splashes on some cologne and deodorant. He gives his house a once-over, picking up anything that seems out of place. There are a few dirty dishes in the sink, so he washes them and puts them away. “Wow, Mom’s gonna be so proud,” he says to himself as he does other odd jobs around the house.  
He almost doesn’t hear the doorbell. “Shit,” he mumbles, unplugging the vacuum from the wall and shoving it into a nearby closet. Mingyu only vacuumed half of the rug, and there’s a clear line between the clean side and the dirty side. He hopes Wonwoo doesn’t notice.

He’s not entirely prepared for what he sees when he opens the door. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of him… and he doesn’t know why. Wonwoo looks normal, but for some reason, it kinda hurts Mingyu’s heart to look at him.

“Hi,” Wonwoo says, turning pink and looking at his feet. “How’re you?”

“Good,” Mingyu says distractedly, his eyes falling to Wonwoo’s hands. He’s holding Mingyu’s sweatshirt.

Wonwoo follows Mingyu’s stare and hands the jacket to the taller boy in the doorway. Mingyu takes it. “Thanks. Sorry for making you walk home in the cold.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Mingyu stumbles over his words, suddenly _very_ conscious of the space his tongue takes up in his mouth. It makes it difficult to speak.

“Oh. Okay. Good,” Wonwoo says, obviously feeling a bit uncomfortable. There’s a few beats of awkward, tense silence between them before Wonwoo shivers a bit. “Dude, are you gonna let me in or what? It’s so cold.”

Mingyu jumps out of the way. “Of course!” He feels like an inconsiderate idiot. “Come in.”

Wonwoo steps through the doorway and points to a pile of shoes. “Should I put mine here?”

Mingyu nods. He watches as Wonwoo plops down on the floor. He takes off his boots like a child, not untying them, just grabbing the heel and yanking with all of his might.  _Thank God_ he _can’t read_ my _thoughts_ , he thinks.

Wonwoo climbs to his feet. Mingyu doesn’t meet his eyes; his gaze is still stuck on the floor. Wonwoo’s voice is small (it always gets small when he’s concerned), “What?”

Mingyu’s head snaps up, meeting the other boy’s eyes. “Nothing, I just like your socks,” he spits the words out too loud and fast, startling Wonwoo. He pauses for a second before adding, much softer, “They’re cute.”

Wonwoo looks down at his feet, trying to hide his rapidly reddening face. His socks have different cartoon vegetables on them, all with emoji faces and wings.  **“You’re cute,”** Mingyu’s heart leaps in his chest, startled by the sudden voice. “Thanks,” Wonwoo mutters, collecting himself and meeting Mingyu’s eyes.

“You hungry?” Mingyu asks, trying to lighten the mood. The silence and awkwardness between them makes it feel like they’re strangers. Actually, now that he thinks about, they kinda are. He doesn’t know Wonwoo and Wonwoo doesn’t know him. Mingyu pushes that thought to the back of his mind; it just makes him more nervous.

Wonwoo shrugs. “Not really. Isn’t it, like, 3?” He pulls out his phone and looks at it, nodding.

 _Right_ , Mingyu thinks to himself,  _it’s too early for dinner and too late for lunch. Am I an idiot?_ He mentally kicks himself, becoming hyper-aware of the fact that they are still standing in the entrance to his house. Mingyu does the only thing he can think of, drawing on the several play-dates he had in elementary school. “Do you wanna… take a tour?” He feels stupid even _saying_ the words, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Wonwoo, trying to gauge his reaction.

Wonwoo smiles, relieved to finally have something to do other than wallow in the discomfort. “Sure.”

Mingyu leads him around the house, showing the kitchen, the bathroom, the guest room, Minseo’s room, and the study. “And this,” he says, dramatically sticking his arm out to the door at the end of the hallway, “is the living room!” He pulls the door open and leads Wonwoo inside.

Wonwoo takes a moment to look around, quietly opening up half-finished books and admiring family photos. Mingyu trails behind him, not knowing what to do with himself during the silence. This causes him to almost bump into Wonwoo’s back when the shorter boy stops abruptly. He’s staring at the carpet. “Did you vacuum?” He laughs, crinkling up his nose when he looks up at Mingyu.

Mingyu rubs the back of his neck out of habit. “No… that must’ve been my sister. She sucks at basically everything,” he tries lying, but Wonwoo sees right through it.

“Oh, I see,” he says sarcastically, nodding his head in mock understanding. “So where’s your room?”

Mingyu gets thrown off by the question. No matter how innocent it is, Mingyu can’t shake this strange, warm feeling that makes his heart pound. “Umm,” he says, putting his sweatshirt down on the couch. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands— it never mattered before, but now he can’t stop thinking about how big his hands are and how sweaty they are becoming. “My room’s upstairs and my parents sleep in the basement.”

Wonwoo nods, averting his eyes so that they fall upon a small fish tank in the corner of the room. “Wow, you have fish?” he says excitedly, almost running to approach the tank.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “No one in his family really ca—” He holds his tongue, just this once. Wonwoo seems to be  _very_ excited about the 6 or 7 small fish swimming in the tank, so Mingyu refrains from telling him that they were bought as part of his father’s “mid-life crisis”. Sometimes, when his mother is bored, she cleans the tank or gives them a little pinch of food. She says it helps calm her nerves.

(There was a night last summer when Mingyu couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning all night, so, giving up on sleep altogether, he made his way down the stairs. He poured himself a glass of water, chugging it quickly. The biggest window in the house was in the living room, and sometimes Mingyu would go there early in the morning to watch the sunrise and think. It was peaceful to embrace the silence. He’s always liked noise, but he could use a break every once ina while.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure sitting on the floor in front of the fish tank. After squinting into the darkness for a few seconds, he made out his mother’s pajama pants and messy hair tied up in a bun.

He sat down quietly next to her, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, offering a sad smile, then returning her gaze to the tank.  _I used to live by the sea_ , she said softly, her voice heavy with tears. Mingyu’s mother never talked about her childhood— Minseo and him had just assumed that it wasn’t a very good one.

Mingyu didn’t say anything. What could he have said? They sat in silence like that for a few minutes, watching the fish swim back and forth in their tank.

Just as Mingyu was beginning to consider going back to his room, he heard his mother’s voice again. _I miss it, I miss my parents, and I miss my brother. I miss it all_ , she said. Putting her head in her hands. Her shoulders heaved up and down as she sobbed.

Mingyu wrapped his arm around his mother, trying to comfort the woman. He’s never had a way with words, so he just offered his shoulder to cry on.

His mother had always been strong and emotionally lacking. Despite being able to influence other people’s emotions, she never showed much of her own. Mingyu wasn’t used to seeing her like this— in fact, he’d  _never_ seen her like this. He felt wave after wave of hopelessness and yearning wash over him. That was an addition to her power; whenever she felt any extreme emotion, she’d exude it, like a radiator exudes heat. She couldn’t help it.

Mingyu was crying, too. She lifted her head off of his shoulder, looking meeting his red eyes with her own. She reached her hands up to cup his face, wiping the tears away.  _Never take people for granted, Mingyu_ , she said, trying to smile. Another fat tear rolled down her cheek as her bottom lip quivered. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, and turning back to the fish tank. Then, she spoke as soft as a whisper,  _you never know when they’ll be taken from you._

Mingyu gathered his voice, pushing past the lump in his throat. He said the only thing he could think of.  _You have a brother?_

She smiled. Mingyu stared at her profile, now illuminated by the fish tank lights.  _Yes. I had a baby brother and his smile was a bright as the sun. He was really the happiest kid._ She paused, her face weakening and twitching as more tears fell.  _Today would have been his 35th birthday._

Mingyu, who had been trying desperately to fight his tears, broke. In between jagged breaths, managed to get out;  _And your parents?_

She watched the fish, and for a split second, she looked sort of peaceful.  _They’re gone, too._ She tried to take a deep breath, but it sounds like she’s gasping for air.  _The sea hasn’t looked the same since I was thirteen, when everything changed. Home is so far away and I am so alone._

 _No you aren’t_ , Mingyu said, taking her hand in his.  _You have dad and Minseo and me. We’re here._

She turned back to him, the skin beneath her eyes damp, puffy, and blue. She looked so tired and helpless, like a child.  _Thank you,_ she said. She meant it, but at the same time, Mingyu could tell that he didn’t alleviate anything she was feeling. The waves of loneliness still crashed on him as they stared up at the fish tank, holding hands, and quietly crying.

When Mingyu woke up the next morning, he was alone.)

Wonwoo sits on the floor, tucking his knees into his chest. He shakes his head, flicking his hair out of his eyes. The entire motion makes Wonwoo look young, like a grade-schooler. Mingyu takes a seat next to him on the floor.

“What’re their names?” Wonwoo asks, his eyes opening wide as they follow the fish darting around in the tank.

“Sorry, what?” Mingyu asks, half-distracted by how absolutely precious Wonwoo looks, enthralled by the fish.

“Names? What are their names?” Wonwoo asks again, whipping his head to the side so that he’s facing Mingyu.

“Well,” Mingyu starts, “they don’t really  _have_ names. They just kinda… exist.”

Wonwoo gasps. “Oh my god, you can’t be serious!” He searches Mingyu’s eyes in disbelief. “You  _are_ serious! Well then,” he turns back to the tank, “I’m taking it upon myself to name them.”

Mingyu watches in amusement as Wonwoo furrows his brows, pointing to each fish one by one and mumbling. After a few seconds of deep consideration, he speaks in full voice. “Okay so, you see that green one, his name’s Caesar.”

“Why _Caesar_?” Mingyu asks, chuckling.

“Dunno…” Wonwoo says, looking at all the other fish. “I just kinda liked it. And that one— with the extra long fins— should be called Fairy.” Mingyu thinks about cutting him off to ask why, but he decides to listen and let Wonwoo have his way. “That one reminds me of Junhui,” he says, pointing to a rust-colored, thin fish. “I’ll call it… July.” He looks at Mingyu out of the corner of his eye, “Get it?”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing a little harder than he should. “Funny.”

“Punny,” Wonwoo corrects, moving onto the next fish. “Those two will be Ken and Jin,” he points to the two that are swimming in perfect unison. “They’re named after my two best friends from back home.” Mingyu notices Wonwoo’s face fall slightly, and scrambles to pick it up as quickly as he can.

“What about that one?” Mingyu points to a bright pink fish, swimming slowly along the bottom of the tank.

Wonwoo’s face immediately brightens, but he doesn’t say anything. **“Oh he reminds me of you,”** Mingyu hears. “Hmmmm… How about… Cupid?”

Mingyu snorts, attempting to stifle a laugh.  _You doesn’t know how funny that is_ , he thinks. “Sounds good. And that one?” He points to one in the back of the tank; a small, grey fish hiding behind a plant.

Wonwoo smiles sadly. “That’s me. That’s Wonwoo,” his eyes meet Mingyu’s and Mingyu has the sudden urge to hug him. “For sure.”

“Why? It looks nothing like you,” Mingyu says, shaking his head to himself.

Wonwoo shrugs, returning his gaze back to the fish. “Dunno… it just looks… bleh, you know? We all get a little bleh sometimes.”

Mingyu accidently lowers his voice. “What do you mean by ‘bleh’?”

“Down in the dumps, I suppose,” Wonwoo says. “Lost, confused, lonely, sad. That sorta thing.”

“Why are you feeling ‘bleh’?” Mingyu’s voice is barely above a whisper as he stares expectantly at the older boy.

Wonwoo shrugs, putting his hands into his lap. “I’ve had a rough year or so, since I turned fifteen,” he shakes his hands a little bit so that the fabric of his grey sweater falls over his hands. Hunched over like this, with his voice a soft hum, makes him looks small and melancholy. It hurts Mingyu’s heart.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mingyu asks, not wanting to pry.

“Not much to tell, honestly,” Wonwoo says, locking his eyes on the grey fish. “My power kinda stands in the way of my dream, and life kinda sucks without a dream.” His face contorts into a bitter smile. “So I’m feeling bleh these days.”

Mingyu can’t fight his curiosity. “What  _is_ your power, if you don’t mind me asking,” he says, raising his eyebrows. Wonwoo doesn’t look away from the tank, doesn’t answer, doesn’t react at all.

He’s beginning to think that Wonwoo didn’t hear him when Wonwoo mumbles, “I’ll show you… ” he frowns, standing up. “... later.” Wonwoo offers his hand to Mingyu, who’s still seated on the floor. Mingyu takes it, clamouring awkwardly to his feet as Wonwoo helps him up.

“For some reason, that fish tank makes people sad,” Mingyu says as they walk down the hallway.

“I don’t know if that’s entirely true,” Wonwoo responds, shaking his head and following Mingyu up the stairs. “I was already sad _before_ I sat down.”

Mingyu wants to hug Wonwoo. There’s no point denying to himself; he wants to wrap the fragile, sweater clad boy in his arms and squeeze the sadness out of him. He wants to warm up his frozen heart and make him happy. He wants to hug Wonwoo. So. Badly.

He tries to ignore those intrusive thoughts as they get to the top of the stairs. “This,” he says, grabbing the handle of the door and pulling it open, “is my room.”  
  
There’s something strangely intimate about inviting someone into your room for the first time. This is where Mingyu spends most of his time. This is where he’s alone with his thoughts, where he sleeps, cries, does homework, and ultimately, where he _lives_. It’s very personal to Mingyu, but he really likes the way the room feels with Wonwoo in it.

After pacing around for a few seconds, Wonwoo speaks up. “It’s cleaner than I thought,” he says, grinning. “And is that a stuffed animal I see?”

Mingyu leaps over to the bed, tucking the stuffed rabbit beneath his pillow. “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he knows Wonwoo already saw it, but he’s embarrassed anyway.

 **“Cute.”** Mingyu blushes an even deeper shade of crimson. “You said you’re good at cooking, right?” Wonwoo says, pointing to the door.

“Yeah, I’m really quite good,” Mingyu says cockily, closing his eyes and giving a smug nod.

“Oh really?” Wonwoo crosses his arms and raises one eyebrow. “Prove it. I’m hungry.”

Time had flown by so quickly that the sun was already sinking beneath the horizon. Shades of bright orange, pink, and purple splashed through the window onto Mingyu’s wall. Granted, at this time of year, the sun sets pretty early, but still.

“Alright alright, your highness. Follow me,” Mingyu leads Wonwoo back to the kitchen, where he puts on an apron. “Do you wanna help me?”

“Sure!” Wonwoo is overly excited, clapping his sweater-paws together a few times.

Mingyu presses a spare apron into Wonwoo’s hands. “Wear this.”

Wonwoo looks at the apron in his hands are pouts. “Why?” He whines, stomping his foot lightly.

“C’mon, we don’t wanna mess up this cute-comfy aesthetic you’ve got going on,” Mingyu explains. The words spill out of Mingyu’s mouth too fast; he’s unable to stop them. He blushes, turning his back to Wonwoo and flipping through a recipe book.

Mingyu’s embarrassed… until he hears Wonwoo.  **“Cute-comfy aesthetic? I like the sound of that,”**  he thinks. There is a shifting of cloth as Wonwoo ties the apron around his midsection.

He pads over to Mingyu’s right side, peering at the recipe book. Mingyu clears his throat after a few minutes of suggesting dishes and getting little to no response. “What do  _you_ wanna eat?”

Wonwoo thinks for a second, looking up into the corner of his vision and chewing the inside of his mouth. “Cookies.”

Mingyu smiles disbelievingly. He really is _exactly_ like a little kid. “Cookies?” Wonwoo nods. “For dinner?” Wonwoo nods again.

Mingyu shrugs. “Okay, then.” He closes the book and puts it away. He’s made these cookies so many times that he knows the recipe by heart. “Why don’t you get out some butter and eggs from the fridge, and I’ll get the rest of the stuff. Just pass me everything as I ask for it, ‘kay?”

Wonwoo salutes, puffing out his chest. It looks funny in an apron, but Mingyu’s heart swells in his chest. “Aye aye, captain!”

 

They manage to bake the cookies with no issues (what a miracle). As Mingyu puts the dough in the oven to cook, Wonwoo wipes his hands on his apron.

“That was fun! And in 20 minutes, we’ll have delicious cookies!” Wonwoo jumps up and down, pausing to pull the apron off over his head. Mingyu does the same thing, smiling to himself.

“Wow, you act like you’ve never made cookies before,” Mingyu laughs, taking Wonwoo’s apron and hanging it up with his own.

Wonwoo shrugs. “I haven’t,” he says, sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Mingyu gapes, leaning against the countertop. “What do you _mean_? How could you have never made cookies?”

“Too busy,” Wonwoo looks past Mingyu at a clock on the wall. It reads 5:48 pm. “What time did you you say your family is coming home?”

Mingyu turns around, following Wonwoo’s eyes to the clock. “Oh, not till later. Like, the meet ends at 6, and they won’t be home until like three hours after that, so…” he trails off.

“Oh, okay. I can only stay until 8, anyway.” Wonwoo taps his feet on the floor.

Mingyu shakes his head. “That’s a shame. I’m sure you’d get a kick outta my mom’s power.”

“Really?” Wonwoo chuckles. “What is it?”

“She can influence your feelings,” Mingyu says, causing mild befuddlement to spread across Wonwoo’s face. “She can melt stage fright, make you feel like you’re in love with a pencil, or give you horrible anxiety. It’s entertaining.” He moves over to sit next to Wonwoo. “I bet she could even take away your ‘bleh’... but only temporarily.”

“Holy shit, really?” Wonwoo says, opening his eyes and his mouth until his entire face is agape. “That’s so cool.” He pauses, looking at his hands. “What can  _you_ do?”

“Hmmm… I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Mingyu crookedly smiles, his heart beating out nearly beating out of his chest.

Wonwoo laughs a full-bellied laugh. “Deal… you probably won’t like mine very much though.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Mingyu says. They sit in silence for a few seconds before the timer goes off. “Okay, dinner’s served!” Mingyu gets up, puts on some oven mitts, and pulls the tray of cookies from the oven. They made two dozen, steaming, chocolate chip cookies.

“You have to wait until they cool down a bit,” Mingyu says as Wonwoo tries to take one. Wonwoo frowns. “It’s okay,” Mingyu says hurriedly, trying to flip the frown upside down. “In the meantime, we can show each other our powers.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo looks down at the ground. “You first.”

Mingyu panics. “Umm… I don’t… well… I can’t really show you until…” He is struggling with his words.

Wonwoo’s voice gets very small as he rocks back and forth on his feet. “It’s okay. I’m used to people lying to me,” he says, not meeting Mingyu’s eyes. “You don’t wanna show me, right? You just wanna see mine.” They sound more like statements than questions.

“No! That’s not it,” Mingyu’s voice is louder than he anticipated. He takes a deep breath in.  _Fuck, I’m gonna regret this,_ he thinks to himself. In order to prove to Wonwoo that he can read thoughts (sometimes), Mingyu has to make his heart flutter. Mingyu decides that saying something genuine wouldn’t hurt because at least he’s not  _lying_. “Ummm.... I wanna hug you?”

Wonwoo scoffs, turning red. “Is that a question? Or a joke?”

Mingyu, gathering what little courage he had to begin with, clears his throat. “No, neither. I want to give you a hug because you’re feeling bleh and I think you could use one.”

Wonwoo looks up from his feet. His face is deadpan as he stares into Mingyu’s eyes. “Do it.”

Mingyu closes the distance between them in a heartbeat. He wraps Wonwoo around his torso, forcing Wonwoo to lift his arms in the air. Wonwoo is tense at first, but after a few seconds, Mingyu feels his body relax. Arms wrap around Mingyu’s back and he  _swears_ he feels a nose press against his neck. **“You’re warm. And you smell nice— like your sweatshirt but better.”**

Mingyu grins into Wonwoo’s hair. “You’re warm, too.” He whispers, pulling away from Wonwoo so that he can see his face. “And thanks, you also smell good.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen as his face pales. “Y-you heard that?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Have you heard, uh, everything?” Wonwoo chews on his lip as his anxiety bubbles to the surface.

Mingyu puts his hands up, waving them, “Oh no,” Wonwoo’s face relaxes a little, and Mingyu considers not finishing his sentence. He lowers his voice, hoping Wonwoo doesn’t hear. “... just the lovey-dovey stuff.”

Wonwoo blanches. “Oh my god,” he puts his face in his hands, trying to hide himself. Mingyu debates reaching out to touch him, that  _is_ his default ‘medium of consolation’ after all, but thinks better of it. After a few seconds of pained silence, Wonwoo’s head snaps up.

“My turn,” he says, his voice surprisingly stable. “You might wanna take a seat for this.” Mingyu slowly backs into one of the chairs.

Wonwoo opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to say something. Only, Mingyu notices, Wonwoo takes a huge gulp of air.  **“Sorry,”** Mingyu hears. He tries to respond, to ask why Wonwoo's apologizing, but he is cut off as Wonwoo begins to sing.

 _Can’t see the end, the questions continue_  
_I ask myself again and again_  
_If I can endure through these things_  
_Then, if it’s nothing, why can’t I?_  
_Actually, it’s been really hard_  
_The fact that there’s not a single person_  
_Who will listen to my secrets_  
_Makes me sad_  
_This reality makes me cry_

By the end of the first line, Mingyu’s eyelids feel heavy. By the end of the second line, Mingyu’s asleep. That doesn’t stop Wonwoo from singing the whole goddamn verse. No one can ever listen to his music anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop singing.

When Mingyu wakes up, the clock reads 8:06 pm. He is alone. Wonwoo is gone, and he took at least a dozen cookies with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY OKAY ... I was gonna post last night, but I fell asleep on the floor in my living room so I ended up doing it tonight haha. I'll try to post again next weekend... I've had the week from hell, and I'm expecting this coming week to be similar. Sorry if this chapter's kinda a downer--- I swear there will be more lighthearted stuff in the future, I just kinda wanted to further the plot, ya know?
> 
> quick note: the lyrics at the end are from Space (by seventeen), but I kinda changed them slightly. And yes, I decided to make Nana from AfterSchool Mingyu's mom... don't judge me. 
> 
> AND OH MY GOD IT'S STILL BOO'S BIRTHDAY WHERE I AM RIGHT NOW AND HE'S MY ULTIMATE BIAS, I LOVE HIM MORE THAN BREATHING OH MY GOOODNESSS 
> 
> okay sorry, u guys can talk to me on tumblr or twitter @acceptuality if u want. also, I just finished WEIGHTLIFTING FAIRY KIM BOK JOO AND IF ANYONE WANTS TO RANT TO ME ABOUT IT THAT WOULD BE SUPER DUPER GREAT. thanks for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. you're all so nice oh my goodness :)


	6. night conversations (intermission)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungkwan and Hansol do a little more than talk.

“What time should I tell them?” Seungkwan says, rolling over onto his back and holding the cell phone only inches above his face. Hansol has his arm wrapped around the texting boy, but he shrugs anyway, shifting Seungkwan’s hold on the phone. He promptly drops it onto his face and Hansol erupts in a fit of laughter.

Seungkwan pouts, flipping over onto his stomach and moving a few feet away from Hansol on the bed. “Awwww, come back,” Hansol whines, trying to contain his giggles. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Just answer my question… what time should I tell Minghao? For the duck pond thing?” Seungkwan doesn’t move closer to Hansol.

Hansol thinks for a moment, then says slowly, “Well, if we’re planning to leave for lunch at 11:30, we should be at the pond at 1… maybe tell em, like, 2:30 ish?”

Seungkwan nods, typing. “I told them 3,” he says finally, clicking his phone off and crawling back into Hansol’s arms. Hansol sighs softly into his hair as Seungkwan wraps his body around him.

“Hey Hansol?” Seungkwan says after a few seconds, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Hansol makes a small noise with the back of his throat to respond. “What’s your favorite animal to talk to?”

Hansol is thrown off by the question. He shifts his body so that he can look the other boy in the eyes. “I dunno, they’re all different,” he says.

“What do you mean?” Seungkwan purses his lips involuntarily as he talks. Hansol finds it incredibly adorable, but Seungkwan always complains when he notices it in videos of himself.

“Like… how should I explain this,” Hansol is hushed, murmuring his words as he trails his fingers over the side of Seungkwan’s face. His skin is so smooth, Hansol finds it hard _not_ to caress him. “Different species talk in different ways, I guess. Like, flies are hella chatty and literally don’t shut up. Ever. And they repeat the same thing over and over again, but I think that’s because their memory is shit.”

Seungkwan laughs. “You must love when someone gets the flyswatter, then.”

Hansol’s face falls as they shift their cuddling position again. “Actually, no,” Hansol says. Seungkwan can feel his head shake from side to side. “I can hear everything. A fly may be small and annoying, but when they scream in terror as they die, it sounds the same as a person. It sucks.”

After a few moments of pained silence, Seungkwan speaks. He can’t stand that the mood is going down the toilet, so he diverts Hansol’s attention back to the original question. “What do other animals sound like?”

Hansol smiles, and although Seungkwan can’t see him because of the way they are situated on the bed, he can feel the apples of Hansol’s cheeks on his neck. “Cats are usually quiet and don’t talk very much, even if they are really energetic. My cousin’s cat is a fucking weirdo who pounces on anything that moves, but he barely says two words when I’m around.”

“Do you like that?” Seungkwan asks. “When animals are quiet, I mean.”

Hansol sighs. “At first I did, yeah. I wasn’t super used to this power, so I really liked when I got a break from it. But now…” he trails off, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “Now I like listening to them. Animals are pure… even when they do shitty things— like when a stray cat murders a bird or something— they don’t do it because they’re _evil_.” He pauses, inhaling Seungkwan’s scent.

Seungkwan has noticed that Hansol’s breathing is becoming more even and his voice is slurring a little bit more than usual.  _He must be falling asleep_ , Seungkwan thinks. “Why do they do it then? Why do animals do bad things?”

“Survival,” Hansol mumbles, his lips brushing against Seungkwan’s jugular.

Seungkwan hums softly as he runs his fingers through Hansol’s hair. “So you really don’t have a favorite animal to listen to?”

Hansol inhales sharply with his mouth, indicating that he wants to speak, but hesitates. He holds his breath for a few moments before sighing heavily. “I dunno,” he mumbles, squeezing Seungkwan’s torso, “I guess I don’t have a favorite _type_ of animal.”

“Hmm? What does that mean?” Seungkwan strokes the skin on the back of Hansol’s neck, marveling at how silky it feels. The stubble from his recent haircut feels like a thin layer of velvet.

“I don’t love dogs more than other animals,” Hansol starts. “I love  _Lizzy_ more than other animals. I guess I’m a little biased though— she is my dog, after all.” He tilts his head to glance in the general direction of his dog.

Seungkwan chuckles. “What’s she saying now?”

“She’s asleep,” Seungkwan can detect a smile in Hansol’s voice from the hushed tone he uses. “But she said something pretty funny today— she made a pun.”

“What? Really?” Seungkwan doesn’t believe it.

“Yeah, I know,” Hansol shakes his head, brushing the longer pieces of his hair against Seungkwan’s chin. It tickles, but otherwise Seungkwan doesn’t mind. “Who knew; my dog has a better grasp on the English language than me.”

Seungkwan coughs. “Than  _I_ ,” he corrects.

“See? I’m sure Lizzy would’ve said the same thing!” He raises his voice a little bit at that, but doesn’t stir from where he is comfortably situated against Seungkwan. “Don’t believe what they say; dogs are geniuses.”

Hansol’s voice is so stable and serious that it makes Seungkwan laugh. “I wouldn’t go  _that_ far, Hansol.”

“Fine,” he huffs, “Lizzy’s really fucking smart, though. Smarter than me.”

“That’s not saying much,” Seungkwan lifts one of his hands to ruffle Hansol’s hair as the other boy shoves him.

“Hey! I’m not stupid,” Hansol complains, playfully hitting a laughing Seungkwan. He sits up, pretending to be offended, which only makes Seungkwan laugh harder.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Seungkwan giggles, sitting up so that he’s sitting cross-legged across from Hansol. “You’re just a little slow sometimes.”

Hansol rolls his eyes. “How?”

“Is that a serious question?” Seungkwan asks, laughing. When Hansol nods vehemently, Seungkwan sighs and quirks his eyebrows into a concerned expression. “Hansol, you thought Mitsubishi was the name of an anime!”

“What?!” Both of their voices are getting progressively louder as they mock-argue. Seungkwan laughs hysterically at Hansol, who’s putting a hand on his chest in a “who, me?” gesture, trying to look offended. “It sounds really close to that one Josh mentioned that one time…” he adds under his breath.

“You thought JK Rowling was the President of England!” Seungkwan throws his hands in the air.

“Oh c’mon, she deserves it! I still hope she gets elected,” Hansol’s voice shrinks with each comment Seungkwan throws at him.

Seungkwan sighs, shaking his head fondly. “England doesn’t even  _have_ a president.”

“Oh right,” Hansol says, hitting his forehead with the heel of his palm. “When do they elect a new queen?”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious right now,” Seungkwan looks mildly concerned, but giggles anyway. “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

Hansol doesn’t quite answer the question. Instead, he brushes it off, lying back down. “Yeah yeah, so world geography isn’t my best subject.” He shrugs. “Sue me.”

“This isn’t really geography. It’s politics,” Seungkwan says, giving up and lying next to Hansol. “England has a Prime Minister and a Queen, for your information. The Queen is mostly a figurehead and the Prime Minister does most of the political ‘work’.”

“Ahh,” Hansol says, nodding his head in understanding. “Of course… I knew that England doesn’t really do the whole separation of church and state thing, but I didn’t know they’d have a minister ruling the country.”

Seungkwan, who’s lying shoulder-to-shoulder with Hansol, peers over at him accusingly.

“Kidding!” Hansol shouts. He’s never been very good at keeping quiet at night. “I know that the Prime Minister isn’t _really_ a minister, lol.”

“Did you just say ‘lol’ out loud?” Seungkwan says elbowing Hansol in the ribs. “You’re so  _cringey_ , oh my _god_.”

“What? I’m so fucking edgy, I have all the ladies swarming me. All day every day.” He puts up a peace sign. “I’m hip-hop, man.”

“Ew, why am I friends with you?” Seungkwan sighs, exasperated.

“Because I’m edgy, duh,” Hansol puts the peace sign down, smiling like a dope.

Seungkwan smiles, lowering his voice. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ugh, what did I do this time,” Hansol sits up slightly, leaning on his elbow so that he’s facing Seungkwan.

Seungkwan is too quiet. He's  _never_   this quiet. He just looks at Hansol— really _looks_ at him— and it hits him. _Holy shit_ , he thinks to himself. _I love my best friend._ He blushes, bumbling as he tries to form a coherent sentence while simultaneously repressing his feelings.   
“Nothing, you’re just an idiot.”

It makes no sense at all.

All of the moments that they’d spent together— every sleepover, every hug and joke and high five— has Seungkwan had some ulterior motive? Has it all been a lie? Sure, they cuddled all the time, but it was fraternal. Friendly… friends cuddle, right? That’s not weird, or at least it never _felt_ weird. It always felt natural.

Seungkwan supposes that something changed the day his mother went to the hospital. How Hansol had skipped school to look for him… that’s something any  _friend_ would do right?

( _Seungkwan!_ A loud voice was yelling his name down the hospital corridor. His instinct was to respond, but he couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t will himself to get up from his seat, or look up from where his hands were folded in his lap, or stop bouncing his leg on the floor.

 _Seungkwan?_ The voice was closer this time, not quite yelling, but almost. There were footsteps approaching, at first quickly, then slowly, then not at all. A pair of converse stopped in front of him.

 _Seungkwan._ He recognized the voice and, sniffling, he brought his fists to his eyes. He didn't want Hansol to see him like this, even though he almost always blubbered over nothing. Seungkwan was ashamed, trying desperately to cover up his concern. Too embarrassed to make eye contact, he kept his head down. He was being ridiculous— his mom was completely fine— but he couldn’t stop crying.

 _Seungkwan._ Hansol breathed his name like a prayer. Despite the cold, sterile atmosphere that overtakes any hospital after visiting hours, Seungkwan felt warmth spread through his heart. It hurt.

Without another word, Hansol knelt in front of the boy to look into his eyes. He took both of Seungkwan’s hands in his own. His face was gentle, with sharp lines and dark circles accentuating his concern. Seungkwan couldn’t mistake what he was seeing: genuine love. Even without words, he knew. An unspoken conversation took place.

The sheer weight of his heart in his chest was too much— it’s thudding was giving him a headache. Seungkwan averted his eyes to prevent the tears from falling, looking up at the ceiling. Hansol squeezed his hands, dropped them, and stood up.

Seungkwan closed his eyes. He didn’t want to watch Hansol, his closest friend, walk away from him. He felt the temptation to ask him to stay, but he didn’t want to succumb to it. Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

The weight on the padded bench shifted as Hansol sat next to him. Their thighs touched as Hansol wrapped an arm around him. Seungkwan, touched, choked back tears. His head was still tilted toward the ceiling and his eyes were still closed.

 _It’s okay._ Hansol’s voice was soft and kind, like nothing Seungkwan had ever heard before. It was milder than it usually was.

Seungkwan broke, leaning his head on Hansol’s shoulder.  _You should go,_ he croaked, his face streaked with tears. _It’s late._

After a few seconds of silence, Seungkwan thought that Hansol was considering getting up.  _I’m not going anywhere,_ he spoke slowly and with a final tone.

It hurt. Seungkwan was so grateful that it hurt. He turned his head into Hansol’s chest and sobbed, feeling arms wrap around him. He could’ve sworn Hansol was kissing his head, too.

What felt like a million years passed before Seungkwan’s tears stopped. Seungkwan lifted his head off of Hansol’s tearstained shirt. _Sorry._ With red eyes and a hoarse voice, he looked incredibly pitiful.

 _Shhhh,_ Hansol dragged Seungkwan back into his embrace. _Don’t apologize. It’s okay._

Seungkwan basked in the warmth surrounding him; _Hansol’s_ warmth surrounding him.)

A voice drags him to the present. “What’s wrong?” Hansol frowns. “Why are you turning red?”

“It’s nothing!” Seungkwan blurts. It’s a little more aggressive than he intended, but he can’t help it. Suddenly, the space between the two of them feels far too small. He can’t stop thinking about how close Hansol it to him.

“Just tell me, Kwannie,” Hansol says, jabbing Seungkwan in the stomach. Seungkwan recoils, which just encourages Hansol to continue poking him. “Tell me… Tell me… te-te-te-te-te-tell me!”

Seungkwan wheezes while he laughs. Eventually, they are both in a frenzy, all arms and fingers and laughter. Hansol ends up on top of Seungkwan, pinning him to the bed. “Tell me!”

“Get off of me!” Seungkwan yells, still laughing.

“Not until you tell me!” Hansol retorts.

“Fine!” Seungkwan takes a deep breath, thinking of how to articulate his thoughts. He speaks slowly, carefully choosing his words. “Remember the night my lovely mother was hospitalized? That night you came looking for me?”

Hansol looks directly into Seungkwan’s eyes, the smile falling from his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember what I said?” Seungkwan asks. Hansol cocks his head, shaking it. “I told you that you should leave.”

“Oh,” Hansol releases Seungkwan’s hands, but doesn’t get off of him.

“I just…” Seungkwan pauses, trying to form a phrase that makes sense. It’s extremely difficult, especially considering the lovesick chaos happening in his head. “Thanks. For staying. For being there then and for being here now.”

Hansol looks lost, a blank expression plastered on his face. “Hey bro,” he says. “I feel kinda really gay.”

“E-excuse me?” Seungkwan sputters. He coughs, choking on his own spit as his heart rate quickens.

“I feel kinda really gay. You make me feel kinda really gay,” Hansol’s talking a mile a minute. “Like, I’ve liked a lotta girls in the past, so I know how it feels. It feels like this. It feels like liking you.” He stops, trying not to pass out from the sudden confession. “I like it. I like you. I don’t know how gay I am, but I know I’m gay enough to like you.” He stuffs his foot in his mouth. “Sorry… that was stupid. I’m stupid. Sorry.” He starts to move off of Seungkwan.

His heart is beating right out of his chest. Before he can second-guess himself, Seungkwan reaches up and grabs Hansol by the collar, tugging his face down until their lips meet. The kiss is a mess: too rushed, too sloppy, and without tact or poise. Hansol has to adjust his mouth so that theirs fit together (which is _impossibly_ difficult when you’re kissing your favorite person for the first time and you can feel your heartbeat _everywhere_ ). After a few (short) seconds, Hansol pull away.

“Holy shit,” Hansol says, smiling. “What the fuck. What the fuck. That was so gay,” he pauses, grinning. “I loved it.”

Seungkwan laughs. “Okay okay, calm down,” he pushes Hansol off of him so that they are lying comfortably on the bed. He doesn’t know who he’s directing those words at: Hansol or himself.

“So, like,” Hansol says, getting closer to Seungkwan. “Can we, like, date or something? Because I like you as a helluva lot more than a friend, and this’ll be kinda awkward if you say no…”

“You, Hansol Vernon Chwe, are an idiot,” Seungkwan says.

“Hey,” Hansol shouts, furrowing his brow. “I resent that!”

Seungkwan presses a kiss onto his cheek. “But you’re  _my_ idiot.”

Hansol grins, wrapping Seungkwan in an embrace. Although they’re in their normal cuddling position, it feels different. Their heartbeats gradually slow as they drift off to sleep.

Everything makes sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finals are upon us. I should be studying, but instead I wrote like 2500 words of verkwan. why, you ask? because I make poor decisions.
> 
> Sorry it's not meanie--- I hope you guys are cool with occasional intermissions that follow the other couples. I just love love love loveeeeeeeee verkwan so much and I needed something stress-free to write about. So BOOM a little bit of verkwan fluff for you. 
> 
> The updates might be few and far between for the next few weeks as the semester begins, but I promise I won't abandon the story! Thanks everyone for your support and love on the last chapter-- I'm glad you guys like it! Sorry to leave you guys hanging... you don't really know everything about wonwoo yet and I hope you're patient, because it might take a while. sorry sorry sorry don't hate me 
> 
> hit me up on tumblr or twitter if u wanna (@acceptuality) !! I'm hecka approachable, I promise!! 
> 
> (also did anyone get the wonder girls reference??? hehehe)


	7. cold, dark, and quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeonghan attempts to throw a party. Things go awry, including Mingyu's feelings.

“Hey Cupid,” Minghao claps loudly in front of his best friend’s face, getting his attention. Mingyu has been finding himself lost in thought more and more nowadays— with finals being over and the onset of the new semester, he has a lot on his mind. For this reason, he jolts when Minghao pops this bubble of solitude he’s created. “Jun just told me Jeonghan’s throwing a party tonight. You wanna come?”

Mingyu closes his geography textbook. “Yeah, what time?” he yawns. The teacher decided to end class early, allowing students to talk and get started on homework before the bell marks their dismissal.

“Hmmm, lemme check,” says the winged boy, unlocking his phone. “It’s at 9 tonight… it’s only supposed to be a few people.”

“Okay,” Mingyu nods. “Sounds good.”

Minghao squeals loudly, making Mingyu jump _again_. “Jun’s gonna order chinese food.” He licks his lips. Minghao’s always complained that the greasy, salty americanized chinese food isn’t “authentic”, but it doesn’t stop him from devouring it whenever he gets the chance. ( _What can I say? It’s good— it’s not real chinese food, but it’s goddamn delicious!_ )

Mingyu chuckles, ruffling Minghao’s hair. The Chinese boy is far too busy texting _someone_ (*cough* Jun *cough*) to wave his hand away, but he does let out a small grunt of objection. As soon as the bell rings, Minghao flutters out of the room. He usually leaves in a hurry on Fridays, and today is no different. “See you tonight!” He calls over his shoulder, flying through the doors and into the sky.

Mingyu sighs, taking his time to sling his bag over his shoulder and walk leisurely to the door. Everyone else left in hurry, so he’s the only student left in the classroom. He gives a nod to the teacher as he leaves, wishing her a good weekend. “You too, Mingyu. Try to relax, alright?”

“I’ll try,” he plasters a fake smile onto his face. For some reason, he hasn’t felt relaxed in weeks. Everything he does is hard; even being happy takes effort. Hopefully, the party will take his mind off things and allow him to relax.

As he leaves the room, he hears a muted, **“What a sweet kid.”** In spite of himself, he smiles. He still feels like crap, but a genuine compliment never fails to brighten his mood.

Mingyu lollygags home, trying his best to steer clear of people, especially couples. Although he has gotten used to the incessant whispers (more or less), he takes all of the alone time he can get his hands on.

Only the voices never _really_ stop. The difference is that when he’s alone, he’s stuck with his own voice. Sometimes, that sucks even more than listening to other people.  _What’s with Wonwoo? Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Sure, he ignored my text messages, but_ why? _Ugh, I wish we had some classes together or something— he can’t ignore someone who’s standing right in front of him._

Mingyu blows a piece of hair out of his face as he kicks a pebble on the path. “Stupid idiot stupid _Mingyu_ ,” he mumbles at himself. “You just _met_ the guy. Chill. He’s not into you. Chill. Why the fuck would he put you to sleep if he were into you? Are you fucking  _stupid_? Just fucking chill.” He gets more frustrated with himself and his situation as he talks.

When Mingyu opens his front door, he is greeted by an empty house. There’s a note on the fridge from his mother. It reads;  _your father and I are going out with some old friends from school. Won’t be home til late. Minseo is sleeping at Minkyung’s house. Leave a note if you go anywhere. - Mom._

“Perfect,” Mingyu mutters bitterly. In a way, it’s convenient. He won’t have to ask for permission to go out, even though it’s not supposed to be a big party. He’s been to dozens of Jeonghan’s parties, and they usually end with everyone falling asleep on the couch halfway through binging some Netflix Original Series or something. It’s nothing his parents wouldn’t approve of.

He takes a shower and changes into comfortable clothes before flopping down on his bed. He’s ridiculously exhausted, so if he wants to power through the next twenty-four hours of social interaction, he  _needs_ to take a nap. He sets an alarm on his phone for 7:45 pm, which should leave him enough time to get dressed and meander his way to Jeonghan’s house. It’s within walking distance: 20 minutes if he’s really slow, and 10 minutes if he sprints.

Mingyu groans when a loud noise yanks him from sleep. He has to blink a few times to adjust to the light in his room— the sun has gone down in the past few hours while he was dead to the world. Within 40 minutes, he’s eaten something, changed clothes, and read a chapter and a half of his geography textbook. Damn, he hates geography.

It’s times like these, when Mingyu finds himself strolling down the streetlight-illuminated road, that Mingyu thinks about what it would be like to be a girl. He takes it for granted that he can face the night armed only with a cell phone and a polyester jacket, and feel completely safe. He’s been taking a lot of time to think lately, about the state of the world and his place in it. Mingyu is no idiot. The world is so dangerous nowadays.

By the time Mingyu rounds the corner before Jeonghan’s house, he realizes that the party is a little bigger than “a few people”. In fact, the yard is sprinkled with people overflowing from the house and cars are lined along his side of the street. Not only are there at least a hundred teenagers there, but they’re _loud_.

This was definitely not Jeonghan’s idea. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not uncommon for Jeonghan’s party attendance to climb into the hundreds, but they’re typically pretty relaxing. Jeonghan and Josh, his boyfriend, usually throw parties that have an “adult dinner party” vibe. Smooth jazz can be heard in the background as the students form small circles to talk quietly or turn over a hand of cards. Alcohol is almost never present, but when it _is_ , it’s red wine. Jeonghan’s high class.

If someone told Mingyu that the frat party-scene currently unfolding in front of him was _Jeonghan’s_ idea, he’d laugh in their face. Not a chance in hell Jeonghan set this up. He’d bet his fucking _life_.

Just as Mingyu’s about to open the front door, it flings open. At least 15 seniors barrel out carrying a keg, and Mingyu has to press himself against the side of the house to not get trampled. When the coast is clear, he pushes through the cluster of kids around the doorway and walks into Jeonghan’s kitchen.

It takes twenty seconds before a hand claps him roughly on the back. “Oh my god, Minghao said you’d be here!” A boy is yelling loudly in his ear, competing with the bassline of the music. “Mingyu, right?!”

Mingyu swivels his head, making him eye to eye with none other than Kwon Soonyoung. After their brief interaction during gym, Minghao had told Mingyu a bit more about the kid. Suddenly, this entire scenario makes sense: Soonyoung is the biggest partier at their school. He’s like a walking rave.

“Umm, hi,” Mingyu says, trying to keep his voice down. His throat hurts and the music is beginning to make his head spin. “Do you know where he is?”

“Who?!” Soonyoung yells, shoving a red solo cup into Mingyu’s hand. He smells the drink. “Before you ask, I have literally no idea what’s in it! Dokyeom just mixed a bunch of shit together!”

“Thanks,” Mingyu mumbles, deciding that a small sip won’t hurt him. It tastes pretty good, all things considered. “Minghao? Where’s Minghao?”

“Ahh,” Soonyoung starts, beginning to pull away from Mingyu’s ear. “Him and the other guys are in the loser room! I’ll show you, c’mon!”

Mingyu follows Soonyoung to a door that looks like it leads to a closet. When he opens it, however, there is a stairwell going down. His nostrils are assaulted by a musty smell as they descend into the slightly quieter, much colder, lower floor. “Isn’t this just the basement?” Mingyu asks. It takes a few seconds for Mingyu’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

“Shhh,” Soonyoung waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder. “It’s the _loser_ room. And these,” he points to the group of familiar faces watching the television, “are the losers.”

Jeonghan, Josh, Jun, and Minghao are huddled on the couch, their faces lit up by the horror movie currently playing. They pause it, and Minghao lifts up a chinese takeout box, “I saved you some crab rangoon.”

Mingyu walks around the couch to take the seat on the floor, gladly accepting the leftover chinese food. “I thought you said the party started at 9?” He says between bites.

“It was supposed to,” Jeonghan snaps bitterly, glaring at Jun. “But  _this_ fucking idiot invited tweedle dee and tweedle dum.”

Jun puts a hand over his heart in an act of mock innocence. “How was _I_ supposed to know that Soonyoung and Seokmin would come a hour and a half early?” He defends, whining.

“With booze,” Josh adds.

“And boys,” chimes Minghao.

“Yeah, I get it,” Jun says, stretching across the couch so that his head is leaning against Minghao’s shoulder and his feet are resting on a discarded sweatshirt next to Mingyu. “I’m an idiot.”

 **“No you’re not,”** Mingyu hears Minghao murmur. He sighs. _It’s begun,_ he thinks.

“Holup,” Soonyoung pipes up from halfway up the stairwell. The other boys assumed he’d already returned to the party; Soonyoung was attracted to parties like moths were to light. “Am I tweedle dee or tweedle dum?” He pokes his head around the corner to lock eyes with Jeonghan, who gasps.

“If you have to ask, you’re tweedle dum,” Josh interjects, saving Jeonghan from the awkward silence that had settled over the room. Not that Soonyoung is _offended_ , but he doesn’t appreciate being talked about behind his back.

The rest of the boys laugh as Soonyoung trudges up the stairs, mumbling something that sounds a lot like _losers_ under his breath.

Except for the TV, the room is dark. Except for the muffled bass coming from the ceiling, the room is relatively quiet. Except for his exposed hands, Mingyu is warm.

Every few seconds, however, Mingyu hears small voices in the back of his mind. Soft, simple thoughts from Josh, like **“Jeonghan’s hair’s soft,”** and equally as heartwarming thoughts from Jeonghan, like **“I love when Josh plays with my hair…”** No matter how cute the two boys are being, Mingyu can’t ignore the sharp pain in his own heart. Jealousy.

Before Mingyu can fall down that hole into an endless vortex of self-pity and loneliness, he gets interrupted by some long-winded rambling from Minghao.  **“Oh my god, Junhui smells so sexy. Oh my god. Oh my _god_ what is happening? I bet he can hear my heartbeat. I want him to kiss me. Who would wanna kiss someone whose heart can be heard halfway across the room? Ah, how do you slow your heart rate? What if I hold my breath…”** Mingyu almost laughs out loud as Minghao’s voice fades out. Although Minghao sounds like an idiot, love can do that to a person. Love can make sense out of the illogical.

Then the bathroom door opens. Mingyu turns his head to see who’s moving toward the couch, but it’s too dark to make him out. The figure’s voice vibrates the back of Mingyu’s mind, **“Sorry.”** His heart skips a beat before dropping to the pit of his stomach. He knows that voice all too well.

Wonwoo takes a seat silently on the floor next to Mingyu, pushing Jun’s feet out of the way. “Get off my sweatshirt,” he mumbles at the Chinese boy sprawled across the couch.

For the first time in his life, Mingyu is thankful no one he knows happens to have the same power as him.  _What the fuck do I do now? I know what I want to do; I want to talk to him. To ask him why he ignored my texts. Why don’t I ever see him in school? What is his power and why’d he leave? I barely know him. I want to know him._ Mingyu side-eyes Wonwoo, whose face looks beautiful and dewy with the light from the movie making him glow. He looks unperturbed and completely invested in the film. His heart falters as he drops his gaze to his hands, which are folded in his lap. _He doesn’t want to know me. That’s why._

Mingyu likes to pretend that he's a confident person. His charisma only truly shines in school; even when he should be reprimanded, he manages to get off without so much as a slap on the wrist. He knows what to say, how to say it, when to say it, and what the reaction will be from his teachers. Mingyu understands people and likes being around them.

This is one of those moments where Mingyu pretends he knows what he's doing. 

So, despite how hard his heart is pounding, Mingyu clings blindly to his remaining shreds of extrovertedness and panache, and leans over to Wonwoo. He smells like soap and mint, which only makes Mingyu more nervous. “Hey,” he breathes, careful not to be heard by any of the other guys.

Wonwoo turns his head so abruptly that he barely misses Mingyu’s nose. He stares, wide-eyed, at Mingyu, looking like a deer-in-headlights. Wonwoo nods curtly, his mouth is pressed into a fine line. He returns his eyes to the screen while remaining stiff and uncomfortable.

Mingyu thinks he’s made a mistake. He wants to hit himself in the face over and over again until he stops doing stupid shit like this. As if he wasn’t already feeling crappy enough. Wonwoo clearly doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s made a mistake… until he hears a voice. It starts quiet, but is rapidly increasing in volume, like a train barreling down the tracks in the distance. **“... holy shit, he was really close to me. He smelled just as good as he did before. I’m such an embarrassment. I shouldn’t have turned so fast— I almost kissed him.”** A sudden picture of Mingyu’s face appears in Wonwoo’s mind. It’s weird seeing himself from someone else’s perspective.  **“Jesus Christ, this is bad. He can probably hear everything I’m thinking. I need to get out _now_. Before this gets worse…”**

Wonwoo pulls his phone out of his sweatshirt pocket, pretending he’s gotten an important text. “Sorry guys, I gotta go,” he mutters, slipping his phone back into the pocket before putting the sweatshirt on. There’s a chorus of goodbyes as Wonwoo rushes up the stairs.

Mingyu sits in awe, his mouth agape. He’s not quite sure what just transpired in front of him, but he’s at least ninety percent sure Wonwoo doesn’t hate him. Unfortunately, he’s also about ninety percent sure that something is wrong.

He can’t get up _now_ , though. It’s not that Mingyu is concerned what the guys will think if he runs out after Wonwoo, because he knows they wouldn’t care, but he wants to prove it to _himself_ that he can withstand. He needs to resist his feelings, at least for a bit. Wonwoo is almost a stranger, so he needs to keep his distance.

After approximately eighteen more minutes of gore (yes, he counted), Mingyu gets up. “This movie is making me queasy,” he lies. “I’m gonna go upstairs.”

Josh and Jeonghan look up from the screen to wave, but Jun and Minghao are fast asleep, entangled in each other’s arms.  _No wonder he was so quiet,_ Mingyu thinks while looking at his best friend. Redirecting his attention, Mingyu climbs the stairs.

He wanders around the house for a few minutes, trying his best not to be frantic and hysterical. Mingyu spots Soonyoung, sitting on Seokmin’s lap and engaged in a heavy, R-rated makeout session. Soonyoung’s mind is a blur of Seokmin’s face and random words. The two boys happen to be drunk off their asses.

He doesn’t approach them, but he still needs to find Wonwoo. Mingyu scopes the crowd of bodies for the least intimidating, and settles on a short boy with pink hair. “Hey, have you seen Wonwoo?!” He yells over the music. “He’s a little shorter than me, brown hair, wearing a grey hoodie. Came out of the basement like 20 minutes ago?!”

The boy’s voice is gruff. “Yeah, I saw ‘im,” he says, pointing at the front door. “He took a bottle of vodka and left.”

Mingyu almost loses it. Alcohol… this isn’t good. “Th-thank you!” He calls, running toward the door.

He’s greeted by the cold smell of the night and far fewer people on the yard. “Wonwoo!!” He yells into the street. Choosing a direction, Mingyu screams Wonwoo’s name.

Mingyu’s so close to giving up. It’s cold and he’s been yelling for the past half an hour or so, and there’s still no trace of the kid. He decides in a last ditch effort, however, to check in the woods behind the house. It’s no forest, but a small grove of trees located just out of earshot.

“Wonwoo?” He says, this time in a firm voice, not needing to scream over stupid teenagers and EDM. “Wonwoo?”

He stares at the trees. They stare back at him. Silence.

Mingyu crouches, putting his head in his hands. The tears start coming before he can fight them off. He’s alone, in the dark, in the cold, and without Wonwoo. And even worse, Wonwoo is in fucking _danger_ , alone, in the dark, in the cold, and without Mingyu to help him. Lord knows whether he’s drunk… or has alcohol poisoning.

His sniffles are interrupted by a small, slurry voice, ringing in his mind.  **“SeeJeonWonwoo… youfuckeduppp. Now youreven hearinghisvoice. StupidJeonWonwoo.”**

Mingyu chokes on his spit, which has grown thick with sobs. “Wonwoo?” he croaks into the darkness.

 **“SillystupidWonwoo… noone’ll loveyou… especiallynot himmmm… it’ll belikelast time,”** Mingyu follows the voice to a clearing in the woods, where a hooded figure is perched on a tree stump. He pauses, stopping a few yards behind him, and watches as Wonwoo takes a giant gulp from an unmarked bottle. He hiccups.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu whispers, trying to find his voice.

Wonwoo hears him— funny how sound carries in an empty woods in the middle of the night— and turns. His knees are tucked into his chest, there is wetness beneath his eyes reflecting the moonlight, and his teeth are chattering. “Why’re you here?” For some reason, his speaking voice sounds sober and stony, in vast contrast with his heart.

Mingyu moves toward Wonwoo, seating himself next to him on the stump. “You,” Wonwoo’s eyes widen, tears temporarily halted. Mingyu carefully adds to his thought a few moments later, “... shouldn’t drink. Aren’t you seventeen?”

Wonwoo moves his eyes up to the sky, placing the bottle on the ground and hugging his legs. “Almost.”

They sit in silence, Wonwoo staring at the moon and Mingyu staring at Wonwoo. All that matters to Mingyu is that Wonwoo is safe and happy, and now that he’s there with him, Wonwoo is safe. Happiness… well, that’s another story.

“How are you?” Mingyu asks, his breath creating puffs in the air. After a few seconds with no response, Mingyu continues, “Still feeling bleh?”

Wonwoo’s face contorts in a pained smile as he gargles and tears fall from his eyes. “Nope…”  
He says, popping the “p”. “I feel bad. I feel worse than bleh.”

Mingyu’s voice doesn’t raise above a whisper, “Why?”

“Life is shit,” he says, his breaths becoming more jagged and shaky. His words come out slowly and smoothly, like a waterfall. “It feels like someone’s sitting on my chest. I can still breathe, but it hurts. It takes a lot of effort. And it’s heavy. It’s really fucking heavy and sometimes I don’t want to deal with it. My chest hurts. My heart hurts.” Wonwoo rotates his head 90 degrees, looking Mingyu dead in the eyes. The way his eyebrows are quirked up in the middle and the way his lip quivers makes Mingyu’s heart hurt, too.

Wonwoo speaks in the quietest voice he can muster, so quiet that Mingyu is essentially lip-reading. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” They both know that “here” doesn’t mean “in the woods” or “in the dark” or “in the cold”. It’s more than that. And it scares the living hell out of Mingyu, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He crushes Wonwoo into his arms, trying desperately to press his warmth and happiness into the sad boy. Wonwoo sobs into Mingyu’s shoulder, but Mingyu doesn’t mind. It’s times like these that Mingyu wishes he were born with his mother’s gift. Things would be infinitely easier.

After what feels like an eternity, Wonwoo stops crying. He remains in Mingyu’s arms, though, enjoying the heat and the affection. Mingyu actually thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he feels Wonwoo’s voice against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I haven’t been talking to you… and I’m sorry I left your house the way I did. It’s jus—”

Mingyu cuts him off, “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“No,” Wonwoo’s voice is solid, not watery like it was a few minutes earlier. “You deserve an explanation.” He takes a deep breath. The words spill out of him too quickly, partially because he’s nervous, but mostly because he’s slightly inebriated. “I really like you but I don’t deserve someone like you in my life. I’m broken and lost and crazy fucked up, and you’re warm and functioning and  _good_. I don’t wanna get hurt. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He breathes for a second. “If I spent time with you, you woulda heard all those things. About how much I like you. And things would be bad and I’d be embarrassed…” he trailed off.

“Oh,” Mingyu gapes, hugging Wonwoo a little tighter. Wonwoo avoided him for the same reasons Mingyu has been trying to keep in touch with him. He thinks very hard before he speaks. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t leave you. But I wanna know you, Wonwoo. Let me know you. Let me help you. Please.”

The world is frozen, with Wonwoo pressed into Mingyu’s side and the moon lighting up the trees around them. Snowflakes begin to fall, sticking to Wonwoo’s hair and making him look even more lost. Neither one of them says a word, but a tiny voice breathes in the back of Mingyu’s mind.

**“Okay.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was gonna be a cliché party scene, but it took a turn for the worst... hoWEVER AFTER EVERY STORM COMES A RAINBOW SO LOOK FORWARD TO SOME SWEET COURTING MEANIE GUYYS... soz if this felt forced or rushed. I wrote half of this like a week ago and half of it just now, so tell me if anything is confusing/if there are any continuity errors eeep
> 
> hope u love soonseok half as much as I do. 
> 
> anyway, love u guys. thanks for the comments and kudos. also, anyone who stopped by my tumblr/twitter (@acceptuality) THANK U SO MUCH. it makes me giddy when people actually read this stuff hehehe. it's mostly just self-indulgent meanie and other seventeen ships. 
> 
> yeee... I'll do my best to post another chapter soon!! thank you all. seriously.


	8. fixing problems with a hot glue gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the party is almost as chaotic as the party itself.

Although Mingyu wakes up the morning after Jeonghan’s party, it feels like he’s still dreaming. There’s pounding in his head when he rolls over. “Holy fuck, and I didn’t even _drink_ anything.” He suspects the headache is from lack of sleep, or crying, or some ungodly combination of the two.

Mingyu grunts as he props himself on his elbows, analyzing where he is. The basement looks different in the morning, with rays of sun filtering through the small windows near the ceiling. It’s a sharp contrast from a few hours earlier, when Mingyu carried a very tired and drunk Wonwoo back to Jeonghan’s house. The building had been abandoned by all signs of life save for 4 boys asleep in the basement.

Mingyu swivels his head from side to side, doing a mental headcount of everyone in the room. Junhui is reclined on the couch, resting his feat on the coffee table next to several empty chinese takeout boxes. Minghao is curled into the other Chinese boy’s side, latching onto his arm and resting his head in the crook of Jun’s neck. Jeonghan and Josh are asleep together under a blanket, Josh’s head pillowed on Jeonghan’s arm.

On his right, situated on the floor, is a sleeping Wonwoo. He looks peaceful like this, warm with Mingyu’s jacket draped over his torso and a grey hoodie being used as a makeshift pillow. Mingyu smiles at him without meaning to.

Mingyu picks up his phone, which had been laying next to his head on the floor all night long. He groans after turning it on, reading the time. _How is it not even 7 yet?_ he thinks.

Still, he can’t seem to fall back asleep. He’s always been “that kid” at the sleepover— the one who fell asleep last and woke up first. Foreign environments always filled him with wonder, so he didn’t mind. When everyone else is asleep, Mingyu snoops.

Gently shifting his weight into his feet, he gets into a crouched position. Then, slowly, he stands.  _Crunnnnch._ Mingyu screws his eyes shut, unmoving. All of his joints decided to pop at once, but luckily, he’s surrounded by heavy sleepers. Exhaling deeply, he tiptoes up the stairs.

Mingyu witnesses the wreckage of the previous night. Contrary to the basement, there are half-empty bottles and overturned furniture everywhere, as well as glitter and garbage blanketing the floor in a thin layer.

He goes through the typical motions of being alone in a sleeping house. First, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. He opens every cabinet, pulling out whatever seems appetizing. Mingyu is reminded by the rumbling in his stomach that he hasn’t had anything real to eat in the past 12 hours except for some crab rangoon.

Opening the refrigerator, Mingyu’s eyes fall to a pizza box. “Yesss,” he whispers excitedly, grabbing it. Inside, there is still half a pepperoni pizza. Mingyu’s mouth waters as he sets the box on the counter, taking out a cold piece and raising it to his mouth.

“Oh my god, what _happened_ last night?” The sudden voice almost causes Mingyu to drop the slice of pizza. He whirls on his heels to meet a substantially less chipper version of Seokmin. He has dark blue under his eyes, which have glitter and neon eyeliner all over them.

“You’re still here?” Mingyu sputters, shoving half the slice of pizza in his mouth.

Seokmin closes his eyes and nods. “I think I got wasted. I dunno though,” he croaks, his voice gravelly from drinking and screaming. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

Mingyu stuffs the rest of the slice in his mouth, chewing a few times before gulping. Eating this fast always gives him chest pain as the half-chewed food slides down his digestive track, but he doesn’t care. “Do you remember _anything_ from last night?” Mingyu inquires, thinking of Soonyoung straddling Seokmin with their tongues in each other’s mouths.

Seokmin’s brow furrows, concentrating. “Yeah, I think,” he starts, pressing his palm to his forehead. “I think I danced with Hoshi a lot.” A picture of Soonyoung flashes in Seokmin’s mind, which fortunately, Mingyu sees. _Oh yeah_ , Mingyu thinks,  _Soonyoung and Hoshi are the same person._

“And…?” Mingyu prompts, encouraging Seokmin to continue.

“Fuck, I dunno man. Everything’s blurry and my head fucking _hurts_ ,” Seokmin presses his eyes shut aggressively as he massages his temples. “D’ya know where Jeonghan keeps the aspirin?”

Mingyu shrugs, turning around and grabbing another slice. He bites a huge chunk out of the cold piece of pizza, maneuvering it into his left cheek so he can speak. “Nah, why don’t you look for it? I was gonna anyway.”

Seokmin rubs his face with his palms, sighing deeply. “Yeah. Okay. Why the hell not.”

“Lemme know when you find it, will ya?” Mingyu calls, finishing off the second slice.

Seokmin, who turns his back to Mingyu and begins to walk out, flips Mingyu off over his shoulder. “Yeah yeah, whatever.”

Mingyu almost laughs at how uncharacteristic it is for Seokmin to be bitter. Then again, Mingyu’d probably be even more uptight if he had drank _half_ as much as Seokmin and Soonyoung had.

After sufficiently stuffing his face, Mingyu wanders around Jeonghan’s house. He rounds the corner to find a blonde boy asleep on a couch. Soonyoung has glitter in his hair, under his eyes, and all over his shoulders and arms. He looks like he got vomited on by a rave.

Despite his hair being in complete disarray and his clothes hanging haphazardly off his figure, Soonyoung looks soft and childlike. In his experience, Mingyu has found that people look the most gentle when they’re asleep. There’s something so vulnerable about it— they’re unable to control their facial expressions as they rest. It used to make Mingyu feel uncomfortable, but lately, he’s found it peaceful.

Man, Mingyu only wishes he could sleep like that.

His back aches when he climbs the stairs. Sleeping on the floor never treats him well. He finds Seokmin in the bathroom, who’s tilting his head back to swallow a pill. “Found ‘em?” Mingyu asks, leaning on the door frame.

Seokmin closes his eyes for a few seconds before splashing water on his face. He lets himself drip into the sink before lifting the hem of his shirt to dab his damp skin. “Yep,” he offers a bright smile, albeit small. “Want some?” He holds the bottle of aspirin out to Mingyu.

Although the pain in Mingyu’s head has already numbed to a dull throb, he accepts the bottle. Popping a pill in his mouth and tilting his head forward to swallow it, he hands the bottle back to Seokmin. The smiley boy puts returns it to it’s place in a cabinet.

“Ummm,” Mingyu says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know Soonyoung’s still here, right?”

“Yeah, I woke up next to him.” Seokmin gestures to the door and the two boys exit the bathroom. Seokmin leads Mingyu down the stairs to where Soonyoung is sleeping on the couch. Mingyu watches in fascination as Seokmin casts a fond gaze down at the asleep boy.

It’s unmistakable. Seokmin’s heart _sighs_. And Mingyu hears it.

Mingyu breaks the silence. “So, how much do you remember from last night?” His voice is low, trying not to ruin the moment.

“Not much,” Seokmin says, speaking at normal volume. He grabs a blanket that is draped over the back of the couch and crawls next to Soonyoung, pulling the blanket over the two of them. Soonyoung, still asleep, curls into Seokmin’s side and clutches at his arm.  **“Cute,”** Mingyu hears. “I’m gonna try to get some more sleep.” He whispers very carefully, being sure not to wake the sleeping boy at his side.

Mingyu nods and sticks his thumbs up as he backs away slowly. Seokmin’s eyes flutter shut when he believes Mingyu’s out of the room, but Mingyu pokes his head around the corner to see a smile spread across Seokmin’s lips.

 _That idiot has no idea what happened last night,_ Mingyu thinks to himself as he returns to the basement. He shakes his head with a soft smile.  _They’re_ totally _in love with each other._

Mingyu can hear his friends before he sees them. Jun, Minghao, Josh, and Jeonghan had all migrated to the center of the room, where they are piled on top of one another. “We’re wrestling!” Josh explains, grappling at Minghao’s appendages.

“Yeah, they wanted to fight me,” Minghao rolls his eyes, moving from where he has Jeonghan pinned to the floor. He extends his wings and flies over to Mingyu.

Jeonghan coughs while color returns to his face. “What’re you talking about? You said ‘Hey, bet you guys can’t take me,’ and tackled Junhui!” Josh helps Jeonghan to his feet.

“Hey, how was I s’posed to know Hao would go all jiu-jitsu on your ass?” Junhui complains before muttering, “All I said was that _I_ could definitely take him.”

“Yeah, but it’s my job to keep the peace!” Jeonghan runs his hands through his hair.

“Aww, and you did such a good job,” Jun laughs, pulling Jeonghan into a headlock and messing with his hair.

 _That_ set him off. “Okay, now I’m gonna let you have it!” Jeonghan shapeshifts into the strongest, most powerful boy at their school, Seungcheol.

Mingyu giggles in amusement as Jeonghan (currently disguised as Seungcheol) tackles Jun, holding him back with ease. Joshua is babbling in a half-hearted attempt to break up the fight, caught between glee and concern.

“Hey,” Minghao whispers to Mingyu amidst the commotion. “Could you do me a favor?” Minghao’s feet don’t touch the floor as he flutters next to Mingyu.

Mingyu looks up at him, shrugging. “Sure. What is it?”

Minghao gets closer until his voice is nothing but breath in Mingyu’s ear. “I want to confess.”

Mingyu pulls away in mock-astonishment. He places a hand on his chest and shakes his head with exaggerated somberness. “I’m sorry, Minghao. I just don’t like you that way…”

Minghao slaps the back of Mingyu’s head as they chuckle. “Shut up, you know I don’t wanna confess to  _you_ …” His voices dies down as his eyes fall upon Junhui, who is currently being lifted above Jeonghan’s head. **“I wanna confess to _him_.”**

“Yeah, I know,” Mingyu pats Minghao on the butt, simply because he cannot reach his shoulder. Minghao’s wings lift him too high to touch comfortably. “So what favor do you need from me? If you’re asking whether I think you should, I’m saying yes.”

“Well kinda,” Minghao lowers to the floor, causing Mingyu to tower over him. “I was wondering… could you just… _confirm_ that I won’t make an ass of myself?”

Mingyu understands the meaning of ‘confirm’; Minghao’s always enthusiastic when it came to exploiting Mingyu’s abilities. “Fine… but only because I love you.” Mingyu grumbles.

“You’re the best!” Minghao flutters around above Mingyu’s head, throwing finger hearts and blowing kisses.

“I should be calling _you_ Cupid, not the other way around,” Mingyu jokes.

Minghao sticks out his tongue before wrapping his arms around his lanky best friend. “Nah, you’re definitely the Cupid in this friendship.”

“What does that make you, then?” Mingyu pulls away from Minghao, punching him playfully on the shoulder.

“With these wings?” Minghao flexes the wings in question, rocketing upwards. “I’m an angel.”

“Who’s an angel?” Jeonghan calls, transforming back to his original physique. Josh sighs heavily, collapsing on the floor; he’s exhausted from all of the laughing and half-assed attempts at breaking up Jun and Jeonghan’s “brawl”.

“Me,” Minghao says, flying over to the stairwell. “Let’s go eat!”

Jeonghan shakes his head, helping Joshua up off the floor. They walk hand-in-hand. “I’m the only angel around here, punk.” Jeonghan mutters.

Joshua pats Jeonghan on the shoulder. **“That’s right,”** he thinks. “We have to hurry before Minghao completely demolishes your kitchen.” They scurry up the stairs.

Junhui, coincidentally, is left alone in the basement with Mingyu. He’s currently laying face-down on the floor with his back heaving heavily. “Need help?” Mingyu asks. Without waiting for an answer, he assists Junhui in getting up.

“Thanks man,” Jun says, brushing off his pajama pants. They pace in silence up the stairs.

“Hey Jun,” Mingyu says when they reach the basement door. Junhui turns around to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “Where did Wonwoo go?”

Junhui shrugs and turns the doorknob. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “He wasn’t here when we woke up. I guess we just assumed he went home.”

“Ah,” Mingyu nods, pretending that the explanation makes total sense and is not at all troubling. In reality, it’s very troubling. Mingyu is very troubled. He can’t stop thinking about how very, very,  _very_ troubling it is that Wonwoo left. Is he okay? Should Mingyu text him? Before it can get carried away, Mingyu’s mind is assaulted by Minghao’s thoughts.

 **“He looks so good even though he just had his ass handed to him by a shapeshifter. What a pitiful, stupid, and undeniably gorgeous human being.”** Like always, Minghao’s heart is a chatterbox, articulating his feelings incessantly and eloquently. Mingyu looks at Minghao, who is currently making faces at Jun from across the room. Jun makes faces back as he moves closer to Minghao, taking the seat closest to him.

“Someone ate half the leftover pizza,” Josh yells.

“Guilty,” Mingyu raises his hand, taking a seat.

“It’s okay,” Jeonghan says, placing a hand in the small of Joshua’s back as they peer into the refrigerator. “There’s leftover ribs in there somewhere. And I can make ramen, if you guys want.”

Minghao claps in glee and Junhui slams his fists on the table. Mingyu watches as the two Chinese boys fall into deep conversation. They sit very close— maybe a foot apart— and laugh, staring at each other fondly and with innocent eyes. Minghao’s heart is thrumming, saying shit that Mingyu couldn’t dream up even if he tried. " **So cute. He smells nice. Even his morning breath smells nice. I think I might be going insane. His hair is a mess and I _like_ it. That’s how you know you’re in too deep… when you like someone when their hair looks stupid. And I definitely like Jun’s stupid hair. And his stupid jokes. I like him.”** Mingyu listens, laughing discreetly at his best friend. To Mingyu, Junhui looks overtired and disheveled. But to Minghao, Jun looks like a god. It’s kinda hilarious.

He shifts his focus to Jun, trying to hear any shred of his heart. Silence. The more he focuses on Jun’s thoughts, the quieter the world becomes. Even Josh and Jeonghan’s soft, occasional whispers of love fade out. Nothing.

 _This doesn’t look good_ , Mingyu thinks. Jeonghan serves ramen and reheated ribs to the boys. As they eat and talk, it becomes more and more apparent how quiet Jun’s heart is. By the end of the meal, he’s thinking of how to break it to Minghao that Jun doesn’t have feelings for him. It’ll break his tiny winged heart.

Quickly, however, Mingyu forgets that he’s supposed to be keeping close watch on Jun’s mind. Jeonghan divides them into teams, assigning each group a region of the house to clean. “Guys, my parents are gonna kill me tomorrow if the house still looks like this.” He gestures to the empty bottles, broken decor, and confetti scattered across the floor. “Jun and Minghao, you take the top floor. Make sure all the bedrooms are clean and stuff.” Junhui and Minghao nod in unison, linking arms and rushing up the stairs with a black garbage bag in hand. “Josh and I will clean and organize the shit down here if you,” he points to Mingyu, “fix broken stuff. I hear you’re good with your hands.”

Mingyu laughs and wiggles his eyebrows. “Ew not in _that_ way, you fucking creep,” Jeonghan waves over his shoulder as he gets some cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink. “I’ll let you know when we need you.”

Mingyu nods, still laughing at the innuendo. Just as Jeonghan and Josh are about to leave the room, the door bursts open. “Holy shit guys, I think I made out with Soonyoung,” Seokmin exclaims.

“Bingo,” Mingyu says, snapping his hands into finger guns. “Took you long enough to remember.”

Jeonghan and Josh are wearing matching expressions of disbelief and confusion. They speak simultaneously, but they say different things.

“What?” Josh blurts.

Jeonghan’s mouth falls open. “You’re still here?”

Seokmin nods, sitting down at the table across from Mingyu. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck? I mean, I know we were drunk, but what. the. fuck.”

“It’s actually a good thing you’re still here,” Jeonghan interrupts Seokmin’s impending mental breakdown. “You can help Mingyu fix stuff.”

“Huh?” Seokmin meets Jeonghan with a wild look. Words start pouring out of his lips in short choppy sentences. “I mean yeah. Sure. Okay. Whatever. Sounds like a plan. Yep. Good idea. Help. I can help.”

Jeonghan and Joshua hurry out of the room to avoid listening to Seokmin ramble. They’re both more introverted and quiet individuals anyway, contrary to Seokmin, who rests his forehead on the table. “What do I do now?” He moans.

It takes Mingyu a second to realize that Seokmin is asking _him_ for advice. “Oh,” MIngyu says, getting up so that he can sit next to Seokmin. He offers his hand, placing it gently on Seokmin’s shoulder. “That depends,” Mingyu speaks softly and slowly, like he’s interacting with a deer. Any loud noises might frighten the other boy away; he’s a little unpredictable at the moment. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” Seokmin sniffles, not bothering to lift his head from the tabletop. _Christ, why is everyone crying nowadays?_ Mingyu thinks. “What d’you mean?”

“Do you like Soonyoung?” Mingyu asks, knowing full well what the answer is. “In _that_ way?”

Seokmin’s head snaps up. “No!” He yells, wiping a stray tear that was rolling down his nose.  **“Yes,”** his heart echoes. Mingyu gives Seokmin a crooked smile before removing his hand from his shoulder.

Thinking, Mingyu takes a deep breath in. Fuck it. He doesn’t care if people know about his power anymore. Now that Wonwoo knows, who cares? “Are you afraid he doesn’t like you back?”

Seokmin shakes his head vigorously, pouting like a child. “I said, I don’t li—”

“I heard what you said,” Mingyu cuts him off. Then, he gently places two fingers over Seokmin’s heart. “I also heard what you felt.” Seokmin’s eyes open wide as comprehension sinks in. Mingyu takes his hand away and lowers his voice even more. “Now answer the question.”

“I dunno,” Seokmin says. “He’s my best friend. I don’t wanna lose that.”

Mingyu chuckles warmly. “You won’t. Seriously, don’t worry about that.”

Seokmin's expression brightens immediately. _So this is what it must feel like to be Mom,_ Mingyu thinks. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mingyu says, pushing up from the table. “I’m gonna go help Jeonghan. You probably should, too.”

Seokmin nods. Suddenly, his visage turns mischievous. “Hey! Wait,” he says, grabbing Mingyu by the elbow before he can get away. “So you _don’t_ turn into a bat at night?”

Mingyu sighs. “Nope, I wish. My power sucks.”

Seokmin’s brow furrows. “Hey,” he rubs his chin as he raises his eyes to meet Mingyu’s. “What exactly _is_ your power?”

Mingyu’s face goes red. “It’s a little complicated,” he fights the urge to rub the back of his neck. Seokmin stares at him expectantly for a few seconds before Mingyu complies, explaining. “I can hear people’s thoughts.” Seokmin gasps, prompting Mingyu to add hurriedly, “but only ones that have something to do with love.”

“Oh.” Seokmin’s tone is final and his face is blank.

Scrambling to fill the empty silence, Mingyu elaborates. “Yeah. So basically, I can’t tell what you’re thinking right now, but if you think of someone or something you really love, I hear it.” Mingyu misreads Seokmin’s face, thinking that the thinking boy is upset. “Sorry, it’s kinda invasive.”

“No,” Seokmin puts his hands up, correcting Mingyu. “That’s actually, like, convenient. Useful. Way more useful than telekinetic tickling.”

Mingyu laughs, gently pressing a fist against Seokmin’s shoulder. “But you’re ‘Smile Man DK’,” Seokmin’s nickname is used to poke fun at the boy, but it just makes him grin.

“If I’m ‘Smile Man’, you need a nickname or something. We could be a helluva team,” Seokmin says, starting to walk out of the room. He pauses in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. “Something like ‘Cupid’ might fit you.”

“No kidding,” Mingyu huffs, crossing his arms across his chest and blowing a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. When Seokmin is out of earshot, Mingyu rests his head on his arms while lying on the table. “Why does everyone compare me to a magical lovestruck baby with wings?” He mumbles.

“Because that’s what you are,” Minghao pipes up, sticking his head in the room. “Jeonghan needs you. Seokmin may be more enthusiastic than you, but you are definitely better with a hot glue gun.”

Mingyu jumps to his feet. “You guys are using a _hot glue gun_ to fix Jeonghan’s family’s furniture?”

Minghao shakes his head. “Nah,” Mingyu breathes easily for a second. “We’re using it on a vase.”

“What the fuck? It better not be Grandma Yoon’s fine china,” Mingyu says. He pushes past Minghao but stops in the doorway.

There’s buzzing in the back of his head. It’s coming from Minghao. Minghao’s heart is _humming_.

“Hey Hao,” Mingyu says, trying not to sound too accusatory. “Did something good happen?”

Minghao tries to contain himself but fails. An enormous grin splits the winged boy’s face. “Don’t worry about it. Go help them.” He pushes Mingyu out of the room into a much more chaotic one.

Everyone is arguing. Jeonghan is scolding Soonyoung, who’s burying his head in a pile of pillows in an attempt to block out the noise. Seokmin is attacking a beautiful vase with copious amounts of hot glue. Thankfully, the pretty ceramic isn’t one of Grandma Yoon’s collection. Junhui is sweeping confetti and dirt into piles. Josh reprimands him, saying that Jun’s ‘messing with his system’.

“Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs anyway?” Josh yells, throwing his garbage bag at Jun’s feet.

Jun shrugs while continuing to sweep. “Sorry fam,” he says, not offering Josh so much as a glance. “Nothing to do up there.”

It’s a mess— both the room and the people in it.

At that moment, Mingyu’s phone buzzes. His mom is calling him. Mingyu steps out the front door onto Jeonghan’s lawn. “Hi Mom,” Mingyu says.

“When are you coming home?” His mom sounds distracted. Mingyu deems it best to overlook the lack of a greeting from her.

“Dunno,” he says. “Why? Is everything alright?”

She sighs audibly over the reciever. “Yeah,” she says. “Minseo just got home, but you’re father and I have to go out in a few minutes.”

“Oh. Cool.” Mingyu says, not knowing what the correct response is. He thinks she’s about to ask something, so he waits.

Sure enough, she does. “Mingyu, could you come home soon? I know Minseo is old enough to take care of herself, but I’d really feel more comfortable if you were with her.” Mingyu nods, forgetting he’s on the phone. His mother mistakes his silence for apprehension. “It’s okay if you can’t… just make sure she gets something to eat when you get home?”

“No!” He blurts. “I mean, yeah, I can come home. It’s cool.”

She sighs. “Thanks Gyu. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he says, and the line goes dead.

Mingyu has been looking for an excuse to leave since Wonwoo escaped. There’s no point enduring the chaos in the party’s aftermath without him. He walks through the front door and pokes his head into the living room.

“Guys,” Mingyu interrupts his friends’ bickering. “I gotta go.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan whines. “I need your help! Seokmin doesn’t know how to fix things for shit!”

Mingyu laughs, diverting his attention to the boy sitting cross-legged on the floor and struggling with a hot glue gun. “Jesus,” Seokmin exclaims, burning himself.

“Seokmin,” Mingyu gets his attention. “Stop using hot glue. Just go out and buy a new one.” He looks around the room. “In fact, it looks like the only things that are broken are relatively cheap. It’ll probably cost 30 bucks to replace everything. Who here can drive?” Seokmin points at Soonyoung. “Good. Just go buy stuff, okay? It’ll take less time, and frankly, will get you in less trouble.”

At some point during his monologue, everyone fell silent. Now they’re all staring at him, surprised that Mingyu said something that makes so much sense. “O-okay,” Jeonghan says, snapping out of his momentary trance. “You’re free to go. Thanks for your service.” He salutes Mingyu, who returns the gesture.

“Bye,” he says. Seokmin offers him a ride home. Mingyu doesn’t accept; he would rather walk home, accompanied by only his thoughts. Seokmin has the energy of a lovesick puppy and Mingyu’s already feeling drained.

Minseo is asleep when Mingyu gets home. “We’re definitely related,” Mingyu mumbles, making his way to his bedroom. He peels off his clothes and crawls into bed wearing only his boxers. Curling into the fetal position under his blankets, he brings his phone a few inches from his face. The brightness of his screen makes him squint. He goes into his contacts and finds Wonwoo. At the sight of his name, Mingyu’s heart rate quickens in a cocktail of worry, excitement, and infatuation.

He spends five minutes coming up with something to say. He spends another ten minutes deciding whether to send it or not. Finally, he presses his eyes shut and blindly taps at the “send” button.

It reads,  _you okay?_

Mingyu flips his phone over, clicking it off. It takes five minutes for Mingyu’s heart to return to it’s normal beating speed. It takes another ten minutes for Mingyu to fall asleep. In Mingyu’s opinion, it’s a half an hour well spent.

The buzz of Mingyu’s phone wakes him up a when the sun has already crept beneath the horizon. Mingyu unlocks his phone shakily, his brain still groggy from sleep. He rolls over, relaxing when he realizes that the text isn’t from Wonwoo. It’s from Minghao.

The relief is short lived. _abort mission!! you don’t need to keep ur eye on jun anymore… he confessed before i did !!! meant to tell u earlier lol,_ the text says. 

Mingyu’s face heats in anger. He didn’t hear anything sickeningly sweet coming from Junhui’s heart when Minghao was around. Still, he keeps his composure enough to type back, _Nice! Glad I don’t have to do any more work._ He clicks his phone off, not looking at Minghao’s response. He rolls on his back and rests his hands on his stomach.

Anyone who messes with Minghao's heart messes with Mingyu. Wen Junhui will rue the day he confessed to Xu Minghao.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys I'M BACK !!! SORRY I WAS SO DOWN LAST TIME, BUT THINGS HAVE LIVENED UP A BIT IN MY LIFE SO HERE'S SOME MILDLY ANGSTY SOONSEOK. PLS TAKE IT!! new england has gotten POUNDED by snow the past few days, so you know what that means?? NO SCHOOL. no school = shitty soonseok. 
> 
> anyway, sorry if this is a slowgoing chapter. I promise there'll be more happy stuff next chapter and I'm concocting some easy sideplots to further complicate things muahahaha :) imma update the tags and summary, too. things have changed a bit. 
> 
> btw don't be toooo concerned about jun. i promise things aren't always what they seem. hansol and seungkwan should return next time, and wonwoo won't be having backstory for a while. pls be patient. i'm sorry... i'm just a slut for verkwan, what can I say :)))))
> 
> please talk to me on tumblr or twitter (@acceptuality). I'm more active on twitter hehe 
> 
> thank u to everyone who's been keeping up with this hot mess of a fic. love u guyssss and ur comments make me soo so sooos sooo happpyyy! keep em coming--- even if they're some constructive criticism... it keeps me on my toes! 
> 
> hope u all have a lovely week! also HAPPY BDAY DINO xx


	9. glamour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu worries a lot over nothing.

Wonwoo is avoiding him. Despite responding to Mingyu’s text with a  _Yeah I’m fine_ , Mingyu hasn’t heard anything from him. Wonwoo hasn’t been showing up to school either, which only makes Mingyu more concerned. Unfortunately, however, he is dedicating most of his time and energy toward confronting Junhui about Minghao.

Well, _almost_ confronting Junhui about Minghao.

Confrontation is no easy feat to begin with, but something about Junhui makes it more difficult. When Mingyu crawls into bed at the end of a long day, he hates Junhui. He wants the chinese boy to suffer for manipulating his best friend. Mingyu carries this anger with him when he walks into school each day and sees Minghao and Jun holding hands or laughing with one another. Mingyu is livid as he saunters toward the boys, ready to wallop the taller of the two in the face.

He’s done this every day this week.

And the scene always ends the same.

The closer he gets to Junhui, the more his anger dissipates. By the time Mingyu is close enough to touch the boy, he’s forgotten why he was mad in the first place.

“Ew get a room,” Mingyu reaches his arm out to shove Minghao playfully, but he uses his wings to dart out of the way. Minghao laughs, both out loud and in his head.

“You ready for your English test today?” Junhui steals Mingyu’s attention.

He’s surprised Minghao’s boyfriend remembered. “Yeah,” Mingyu shrugs. “Well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Aw shut up,” Minghao cuts in. “You get perfect scores on all your assignments and every teacher loves you. You’re gonna get a perfect score on this, too.” He lowers his voice before adding, “It’s me who should be worried.”

“Stop it,” Jun slides his arm around Minghao’s abdomen and Mingyu’s heart swells at how well they fit together. “You’re gonna do great!”

 **“Eeeeeeee…”** There’s a high pitched noise coming from Minghao’s mind. It sounds like a cross between the squeal of a crazed fangirl and baby pig. He blushes, “Nah,” he pretends to push Junhui away in embarrassment. “Thanks for the encouragement though.” Minghao’s mind is alight with thoughts of Junhui but Jun’s mind is a blank slate. Oddly enough, this observation doesn’t bother Mingyu.

The bell rings and Mingyu waits by the couple’s side as they squeeze each other tightly before parting ways. Junhui has Supernatural History, a class that covers the global attitudes toward superpowers since the dawn of time, and Mingyu and Minghao have English.

Within the first half of the period, everyone had finished the exam. “Alright, I didn’t plan for you guys to finish so quickly so I don’t have any lesson plans for today,” the teacher says, shrugging. “The rest of the period is yours. Just don’t get too noisy.”

The class starts at a whisper but climbs steadily to a dull roar. The teacher has to shush them occasionally, but for the most part, they’re pretty under control.

Mingyu hadn’t been able to fully concentrate on his exam; he was too distracted by the anger beginning to bubble in his stomach. Why hadn’t he given Jun a piece of his mind? Lord knows the slimeball deserves it. Mingyu swivels in his seat, facing Minghao. “Hey,” Minghao looks up from his phone, “we need to talk about Jun.”

 **“My boyfriend,”** Minghao’s head sings as he grins, exposing all of his teeth. His voice is gruff, but not enough to distract from the tips of his ears turning pink. “What about him?”

Looking at Minghao being fully head-over-heels for this boy stirred something within Mingyu; fear. He was afraid to tell Minghao the truth and watch his heart break. He didn’t want to watch the dopey smile fall from his best friend’s lips. He didn’t want to hold Minghao’s heaving body when he’s inevitably broken.

So, in a moment of panic, Mingyu makes the air around them infinitely more uncomfortable. “How far have you guys gone?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “How far do you want to go?”

“Oh my _god_ , Mingyu,” Minghao punches him a little too hard in the shoulder before mumbling a little,  _shut the fuck up._

“Okay okay,” Mingyu giggles, having a brilliant idea. “We can talk about it later. Are you crashing at mine tonight?”

“It’s Friday, right?” Minghao says, nodding. The question didn’t really need to be asked at this point in their friendship. They have a good thing going; Fridays it was just the two of them, Mingyu’s PC version of Overwatch, and a bag of Fritos. They usually stayed up until three in the morning playing, often accompanied by Hansol and Seungkwan over Skype. Minghao carries the team, Mingyu and Hansol are okay at it, and Seungkwan is mostly there for comic relief. He’s always squealing and yelling as he fails every mission.

“Great,” Mingyu says. Since Minghao is coming over anyway, Mingyu has more time to mentally prepare himself. He isn’t ready to break the poor boy’s heart and tell him about Jun. Before the day is over, however, he hopes he will be.

Physical Education is the last class of the day. Minghao flutters away to play capture the flag (a bunch of other kids who can fly partake) and Mingyu settles on doing a few free-throws with other earthbound students. Almost halfway through class, Minghao flies down to meet Junhui. The two of them gawk at one another, all glassy-eyed and pink-faced, and giggle.

Mingyu leans against the wall at the farthest side of the gymnasium. He glares at Junhui with as much venom as he can muster while bouncing a basketball absentmindedly. If looks could kill, Jun would be dead.

Minghao laughs at something Junhui said and Mingyu’s eye twitches.

“Hey,” the usual life is drained from Seokmin’s voice, causing Mingyu to look up. He has to do a doubletake; ‘Smile Man DK’ is currently wearing the same expression as Mingyu, sulking against the wall with a tennis ball in his left hand. Seokmin’s mouth is pressed into a firm line and his eyes are fixed on something. Mingyu follows his gaze to see Soonyoung laughing hysterically and doing cartwheels with the shortest boy in the class.

“So,” Mingyu says, stealing Seokmin’s attention. “Things didn’t go well with Soonyoung?” Suddenly, a faded picture of the blonde boy appears in Seokmin’s mind.

Although he plasters a brilliant smile on his face, Seokmin’s eyes are a little too reflective for Mingyu’s comfort. “Of course things went well!” He is overly enthusiastic, which just makes Mingyu pity him more. Mingyu sighs, patting Seokmin on the shoulder. Seokmin’s face falls, his eyes returning to Soonyoung. “I think he’s avoiding me,” he says weakly.

Mingyu lowers his voice, trying to appear gentle. “What happened?”

“I dunno,” Seokmin’s voice breaks slightly. “After we were done cleaning, he left. We usually go together but he left.”

“Oh,” Mingyu nods. Looking back at Junhui and Minghao momentarily. His heart warms at his best friend flying through the air and laughing as Jun tries to catch him. Seeing Jun makes his blood run cold— he wants to protect Minghao.

Mingyu returns his eyes back to the boy by his side. He has an idea. “Hey,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Seokmin raises his eyebrows. “I can listen to him a bit. If you want.” He jerks his head toward Soonyoung, who’s currently jumping 6 feet in the air. Mingyu figures that since he’s stuck with such a shitty, noisy, _annoying_ power, he might as well use it for good.

“Yeah,” Seokmin says after pausing to think. “But…” he trails off, collecting his thoughts. “Can it be on a need-to-know basis?” Mingyu hears Seokmin’s thoughts, **“I don’t wanna violate him or anything,"**  and then slightly quieter, **"Does he hate me?”**

“No problem,” Mingyu looks back at Minghao. The winged boy is currently sitting on Junhui’s back as he does pushups. Minghao’s wings start to flutter when Junhui is noticeably struggling to support their weight. He lifts himself lightly off of Jun’s back, relieving some of the burden while pretending that Junhui is lifting them with ease. Mingyu thinks that if Junhui weren’t such an asshole, it would be kinda cute. “By the way, Soonyoung doesn’t hate you.”

Seokmin’s cheeks dust a light shade of pink as he shifts his stare to the floor. “It looks like you have your own romantic issues to deal with,” he smiles, lifting his head up to look back at Minghao. He quickly moves his eyes from person to person, between the winged boy, Junhui, and Mingyu. “Love triangles are never easy.”

Mingyu’s jaw drops. “No, oh my god, no,” he splutters, making noises that fall somewhere between a choke and a chuckle. “It’s not like that… Minghao’s my best friend.” Junhui laughs loudly from across the gymnasium, catching Mingyu’s ear. He hits Seokmin lightly on the shoulder, an idea abruptly coming to mind. “Actually, I could use a little advice.”

Seokmin beams. “Finally,” he nods vigorously, “something I’m  _good_ at!”

They laugh for a few seconds. Seokmin is glad to focus on anything other than Soonyoung at the moment and Mingyu is glad to have someone to talk to about the whole ‘how do I tell my best friend he’s dating a dick’ predicament. It’s a win-win situation. “Okay, you see Jun and Minghao over there,” Mingyu makes quick, jerky motions with his head toward the couple without breaking eye contact with Seokmin.

Seokmin glances nonchalantly and nods. Before Mingyu can say another word, Seokmin whips his head so they’re facing one another. “You in love with one of them? You already said it wasn’t Minghao, so what about Jun? Does it have something to do with your…” he lowers his voice, casting shifty looks around the room. “... power?”

“No, you didn’t let me finish,” ordinarily, Mingyu would be annoyed by the interrupting, but now it puts things into perspective. At least Mingyu isn’t in love with the same person Minghao is; _that_ would be a shitshow. “Well, Minghao’s really, really, _really_ into Junhui. And Junhui _says_ he’s really, really, _really_ into Minghao.” He pauses for a second, allowing Seokmin time to fill in the blanks.

Seokmin doesn’t. “So? They like each other— isn’t that a good thing?”

“No, that’s not what I said,” Mingyu says, making his voice hushed once again. "Minghao likes Jun. Jun _says_ he likes Minghao." Seokmin's expression remains blank. "Jesus.." he mutters, giving up on beating around the bush. "I can hear Minghao's thoughts clear as day, but every time I listen to Junhui's thoughts, all I get is silence."

Seokmin's mouth forms a small 'o'. "Shit, that's bad," he offers a weak smile and a clap on the back to comfort Mingyu. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"That's my problem," he rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know how to break the news to Minghao. I feel like it's my job to tell him the truth, but I don't know if he can take it."

Seokmin makes a small noise with the back of his throat as he thinks. Then, slowly, he says, "How deep is Minghao?"

Mingyu coughs, choking on his spit. "Wh-what?" He raises and eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," Seokmin swats the air nonchalantly as Mingyu shakes his head back and forth as quickly as he can. "How deep?" They lock eyes, Seokmin trying to get Mingyu to understand without words. Eventually, the smiley boy rolls his eyes, finally finishing the sentence, "in love? How deep in love is he? Is it bad?"

Mingyu laughs at the other boy's choice of words. "Yeah," the smile falls off his face. "It's bad." Mingyu's had to deal with Minghao's thoughts about Jun since he turned 15. He never shuts up, which only ends up giving Mingyu more heartache and a headache.

"Despite how fragile he looks," Seokmin glances at the flying boy, "I think he can take it. It's better to let him know now." Mingyu nods in agreement. "What's his favorite food?"

Mingyu is slightly thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. "Basically anything... chinese food is his favorite, probably."

"Okay, that's easy enough."

"What do you mean?" Mingyu asks.

"When you break the news, make sure you have a lotta chinese food on hand," Seokmin laughs, turning his eyes into crescents. "Food  _always_ lightens the mood."

"Oh," Mingyu nods in appreciation. "Thanks."

The bell rings. Since it's the last class of the day, no one bothers to change out of their gym clothes, which Mingyu immediately regrets as he steps out into the cold. He hunches his shoulders in his fleece-lined sweater and shivers as he feels goosebumps climb up his exposed legs.

Minghao flutters up behind him. "Hey Cupid, need a ride?" He kicks Mingyu in the elbow, and Mingyu almost nods gratefully before he hears, "Jun offered!"

The taller Chinese boy slinks into view, walking on the other side of Minghao. "No thanks," he shoves an earbud in his ear and turns on some music. "I'll just walk." He offers Junhui a warm smile but he doesn't know why; shouldn't he be glaring at him?

Minghao shrugs. "Your loss. You're gonna freeze your lanky moose-legs off." He sticks his tongue out at Mingyu as he flies to Junhui's car. He waves one last time before screaming, "See you at like 5 or something!" The farther the couple gets from Mingyu, the more angry he feels. By the time the car is out of view, Mingyu is seething. He turns his music up as loud as he can stomach and stomps down the path.

A few minutes later, he thinks he hears someone yelling. Still, he chooses to ignore it; they aren't talking to him anyway.

A hand clasps on Mingyu's shoulder, scaring the shit out of him. He swivels on his heels, yelping and pulling his headphones out so fast that his ears start ringing. "Oh my god, what the hell are you guys doing out here?"

Hansol and Seungkwan are hand in hand, grinning at him. "We _were_ on a romantic walk home from school," Seungkwan says, glaring at Hansol, who only smiles sheepishly. "But Hansol thought you looked lonely, so here we are." Seungkwan smiles brightly at Mingyu, not fitting the passive-aggressive tone he's using.

"Yeah, what's up?" Hansol says, dragging Seungkwan so that they are walking three-across on the sidewalk. "Why are you all by yourself? Where's that broody dude— Womyoo or something?"

"And what the hell are you wearing?" Seungkwan adds under his breath. Mingyu chooses to ignore him.

"Wonwoo's the least of my worries right now," Mingyu mutters, turning off his music and shoving it in his pocket. It isn't a _complete_ lie, but it isn’t the complete truth either. Mingyu's heart hurts when he thinks about Wonwoo. He can’t handle dealing with two emotionally taxing issues at once, so he’s focused on Minghao for the time being.

"Oh?" Seungkwan chimes, craning his neck around Hansol. "How can I help? I _love_ giving advice." He smiles, the apples of his cheeks and tip of his nose flushed a deep pink.  _He looks more like Cupid than I do_ , Mingyu thinks bitterly.

"Seokmin already helped me," Mingyu thinks for a moment. "There is one thing that I forgot to ask him about."

Seungkwan waits with bated breath for Mingyu to speak. Unfortunately, however, the tall boy is lost in thought. After a few seconds, Hansol whispers, "What?" This pulls Mingyu out of his head.

"Don't ask, but I'm mad at Jun right now," he rubs the back of his neck. "For some reason, though, I don't feel mad when I'm around him." He walks with a light bounce in his step, trying to get some warmth to his legs.

Without missing a beat, Seungkwan says, "That's probably because he's just so _charming_."

Hansol whips his head toward Seungkwan, mild jealousy flaring in his chest. "What?"

"Oh, you know I only have eyes for you, Vernonnie," he pats Hansol on the hand.  **"I love you,"** Mingyu hears. Hansol, satisfied, blushes to himself. "But it's, like, common knowledge that Junhui is crazily charming."

Mingyu nods, "You're probably right."

"Have you asked him about his power? It might have something to do with that," Hansol adds.

"No," Mingyu grits his teeth, "I haven't." If Jun is using his power to charm Minghao and take advantage of him... Mingyu can barely think, his brain is clouded by so much anger.

Thankfully, a loud voice cuts through the cloud of red in Mingyu's head.  **"Kwannie looks cute."**

Mingyu has never been thankful for his power before. Even when he was hearing Wonwoo confess, he still missed the silence. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels a constant loathing for the love that his power allows him to hear.

This time, however, these small words of love from Hansol to Seungkwan are enough to make him feel okay again. No matter how frustrated and furious he is with Junhui, the knowledge that this kind of love exists is comforting. The goosebumps on Mingyu's legs subside momentarily as he is filled with heat. Anger is real, of course, but so is love.

"Oh, this is my house," Seungkwan says, pulling Hansol with him. "Later Mingyu! Good luck!"

"Wait," Mingyu calls. They pause on Seungkwan's stoop, listening. "What's the best Chinese restaurant around here?"

 

 

 

"What's all this?" Minghao saunters into Mingyu's bedroom like he has a thousand times before, but he is greeted by something new. There is a platter of food, everything from teriyaki beef to lo mein to crab rangoon. "Not that I'm complaining." His wings softly beat the air as he seats himself on the floor with a box of fried rice.

"Umm Hao," Mingyu shakily takes a seat next to his best friend, bringing his left hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I have something to tell you."

He picks up a pair of wooden chopsticks and shovels a mouthful of the rice into his mouth. "Dude, you told me you were gay when we were like twelve." He burps, grabbing dumpling.

"No, it's not that," Mingyu's voice breaks slightly. He takes a deep breath. "It's about Junhui."

Simply saying his name sets off bells in Minghao's head. **"Junhui,"** his heart sings as pictures of the boy play in Minghao's mind. "What about him?" Minghao asks in between bites.

When Mingyu doesn't answer for a few seconds, Minghao looks up from his food. He swallows and stares at Mingyu, understanding that whatever needs to be said is important.

Mingyu gathers up all his courage. "I can't hear him." He's surprised by how steady and firm his voice. It may have been soft, barely above a whisper, but he didn't sound half as panicked as he felt.

Minghao turns back to the food, picking up a spring roll. "I know," he takes a huge bite. "Do you have anything to drink? Any of that nice tea your mom makes?" He uses his wings to lift himself to his feet without putting down the food.

MIngyu blocks the door. "You _know_?" he practically shouts. Minghao nods, eating the other half of the spring roll in one bite. "And you're still with him?"

Minghao stares at him blankly. "Should I not be?"

"Are you serious?" Mingyu is taken aback by Minghao's reaction. He was hoping for him to take the news well, but not _this_ well.

"Yeah," he speaks slowly, his wings halting and folding into his back. Minghao looks confused, and there's a new emotion spreading across his face. The winged boy looks hurt. "Why are you yelling?" He asks softly.

Mingyu didn't realize he was so loud. "No, I didn't mean... I'm just worried. I can't hear him. It feels like he's using you," he pauses before adding, "like he doesn't have any feelings for you."

Minghao laughs. Actually  _laughs_. Relief shows on his face and his wings raise back to their normal position. "Oh my god, you don't know his power, do you?"

Mingyu shakes his head. "Neither does anyone else," he mutters.

"He's an illusionist," Minghao grins until his face looks as bright as the sun. "He's able to warp other's perception of him. That's why everyone thinks he's so charming; people see the version of him that he wants them to see."

Mingyu mulls that over for a few seconds. "That explains why I don't feel angry when I'm around him, but why can't I hear him?"

"You can't see past the glamour. Something about it prevents people from accessing his thoughts," Minghao talks with his hands. "It's not just you; there's this mind-reader in his Supernatural History class who can't read Junhui. He's a few months older than Jun, so he actually _could_ read his mind." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Then Jun turned 15 and _poof!_ Nothing."

"Holy shit," Mingyu feels like he can finally breathe. "I was so worried."

"Do you really have that little faith in me? I have excellent taste in men." Minghao punches him lightly on the shoulder. "You're my best friend, after all."

Mingyu laughs, darting at him. He attempts to wrestle, but Minghao is far too nimble and slips out of his grasp. "Mrs. Kim!" Minghao yells, flying down the stairs. "Do you have any of that tea?" Mingyu remains on the floor in his bedroom, gulping down half a container of hot and sour soup.

His phone buzzes. _Are you busy?_  

It's from Wonwoo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry it's been so long... school's been hella busy and I've been pretty unmotivated as it is, but I promise I'm not abandoning this! Updates might be farther apart but I'll continue posting. 
> 
> This chapter was a bitch to write, which probably means that it'll be a bitch to read. The next chapter will mostly be meanie stuff, so hang in there! 
> 
> okay, i may have mentioned it before, but hoshi's hair is blonde in here. in fact, all of the members have their "adore u" era hair (or something like it). 
> 
> last thing: this chapter is probably confusing. I was on vacation this past week, so I've spent the past 22 hours in a car attempting to write fanfiction. i'm also running on like 4 hours of sleep, which i guess isn't that bad depending on how you look at it. 
> 
> thank u for reading. thank u for leaving comments and kudos. it means the world to me hehe. feel free to talk to me on tumblr or twitter (@acceptuality) if you want. i love u.


	10. quality time with a dreamboat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot cocoa makes people do the strangest things...

Mingyu stares at his phone, where Wonwoo’s _are you busy?_ bores holes into his eyes. Minghao will be back momentarily, not that it matters; they don’t keep anything from each other, so there’s no reason to be embarrassed.

Mingyu types his message once, twice,  _three_ times before hitting send. _Not really._

Mingyu waits for a second, eyes glued to his screen. He watches as the bubbles indicating that Wonwoo’s typing appear, disappear, and reappear. This happens a few times over the course of a minute until they vanish altogether.

 _What’s up?_ Mingyu types hurriedly, desperate for interaction. It has been too long since he’s seen Wonwoo, so just the thought of him is making his face warm. It’s borderline embarrassing how fast his heart is beating.

A new text appears. 

_i wanna go somewhere_

Mingyu sighs: Could Wonwoo be any more cryptic? The next texts come in quick succession, one after the other.

_to talk_

_with u_

_pls._

Mingyu’s heart feels like it’s about to pound a hole through his chest. He struggles to type. _When and where?_

Wonwoo’s texts are short. Mingyu notices that he isn’t fond of walls of text… or punctuation, for that matter.

_are u free tomorrow_

_i’m broke af so like maybe we could go to the library???? it’s free haha_

Mingyu thinks for a second. _Tomorrow should work. What time?_ He pauses, eyes glued to Wonwoo’s texts. Even when Minghao busts through his door with a half-empty cup of tea, he can’t seem to tear himself from the screen. While focusing on Wonwoo’s texts, however, Mingyu notices a fatal flaw in his plan. _Wait, how are we supposed to talk at the library? Aren’t you supposed to be quiet?_

Wonwoo’s typing bubbles stop momentarily as he answer’s Mingyu’s question.

_ye_

_its fine tho_

_trust me_

_library opens at 10 on saturdays…_

Under any other circumstances, Mingyu would groan at getting up before 11 on a Saturday, _especially_ after a Friday night with Minghao. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he isn’t annoyed by getting up early to see Wonwoo. In fact, he wonders whether 10 will be early enough. _I’ll be there._

_wow i was gonna suggest 11:30 or something so i wouldnt sound thirsty…_

_but ye_

_see u at 10 i guess_

Mingyu giggles stupidly at his phone. It’s not even like Wonwoo said anything particularly _funny_. “Whatcha laughing at?” Minghao moves from where he’s hunched over at the computer. He flies over Mingyu, hovering behind him so that he can read his texts over Mingyu’s shoulder.

“Nothing,” Mingyu smiles, clicking his phone off and tossing it across the bed.

Minghao crosses his arms and glides back to his place at the PC. “Judging by that dumbass look on your face, it’s not ‘nothing’.” He turns to face the computer, clutching his mug of tea with his left hand and clicking with the mouse on his right.

Mingyu puts a hand across his chest. Pretending to sound wounded, he says, “Do I really look like a dumbass?”

Minghao doesn’t even look up. “Yeah,” he takes an absentminded sip of his tea. “You’re all red and smiley.” He whips his head toward Mingyu, who’s still seated on the bed across the room. Minghao gives the taller boy a once-over. “And mildly sweaty,” he adds with a nod.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, unable to control the grin that spreads across his face. He feels his face with back of his hands. “I guess I _am_ a bit warmer than usual,” he mumbles.

“So that quiet kid asked you out, then?” Minghao chews his lip as he opens Overwatch. “The one who’s friends with Jun.”

“It’s not like that,” Mingyu flops backward on the bed, his torso bouncing as it hits the mattress. He can’t help the disappointment lacing his voice.

“But,” Minghao clicks something on the screen and curses under his breath, “you wish it was.” He phrased it like a statement, not a question, so Mingyu doesn’t quite know how to respond.

Mingyu knows how these conversations go down: Minghao would make an assumption about some guy Mingyu likes and Mingyu would get defensive. He’d exaggerate his reactions, which would only encourage Minghao to tease him more. Mingyu would blush and swing a playful fist at Minghao’s shoulder, which the winged boy would only dodge. They’d laugh at each other and continue their banter for a few minutes until one of them gets bored and returns to what they were originally doing.

This isn’t one of those conversations, though. And Wonwoo isn’t one of those guys.

So he remains silent.

After a few seconds of Minghao clicking and pressing keys, he breaks the silence. “Don’t worry Cupid,” he sighs, pausing. “Go on your date tomorrow. I probably won’t be awake anyway.”

“It’s not a date!” Mingyu shouts, not meaning to sound so exasperated.

Minghao is unabashed. “Sure sure, whatever you say.”

“And how did you know it was tomorrow, anyway?” Mingyu sits up again. “I didn’t say when.”

Minghao pauses the game he’s playing and faces Mingyu with a deadpan expression. “I’m telepathic.”

“Yeah right,” Mingyu waves his hand in the air to dismiss Minghao’s words.

“Really!” Minghao crosses his hands in his lap. “I figured it out last week. Jun told me that they’ve been learning about famous figures in Supernatural History. Did you know that the first President of Peru had two powers? It’s not unheard of.”

Mingyu’s mouth falls open. “Holy fucking shit, really?”

Minghao starts guffawing. “No.” He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’m totally shitting you, I just made that up.”

“Fuck you,” Mingyu breathes out heavily, laying down on the bed. “I’m going to bed.”

“Awww, Cupid’s mad ‘cause the fairy outwitted him.” Minghao uses a pathetic baby voice, making fun of Mingyu.

“You aren’t a fairy, Minghao, don’t flatter yourself,” Mingyu rolls over. “You’re a housefly. At best.”

“Potato tomato,” Minghao returns to the game.

Mingyu smiles to himself. “I don’t think that’s the saying…” He grabs his phone and selects a few early alarms for tomorrow. As he navigates through his home screen, he can already feel his eyelids begin to droop.

Minghao turns off the overhead light. The only thing illuminating the room is the screen of the computer. The Chinese boy plugs in some headphones. “Get your beauty sleep, Cupid. You’ve got a hot date tomorrow.”

Mingyu doesn’t have the strength to argue with him.

 

He wakes up precisely 7 minutes before his first alarm, as if his body is expecting to get up early. Strangely, Mingyu doesn’t feel the urge to roll over, either; instead, he crawls from beneath his sheets to make himself food and take a shower. He allotted himself plenty of time for each portion of his morning routine, carefully going through the motions.

His mom walks into the kitchen at quarter-past nine. “Why are you up so early?” Her voice is inquisitive. “Could you sleep?”

Mingyu feels a familiar feeling of awakeness as those words escape his mother’s mouth. Anytime Minseo or himself has a particularly rough night, their mother supplies them with lots of energy. It’s nice, actually; it’s the reason Mingyu has never had to drink coffee in the morning. He secretly credits his stature to his mother for this reason. “Yeah, I slept fine.”

“Ah,” his mother takes a seat at the table, producing a book that she had tucked under her bathrobe. “Then what’re you doing up?”

Mingyu checks the time on his phone. “I’m going to the library,” he blurts, pulling on a thick sweatshirt and a pair of converse. It isn’t a complete lie— but he refrains from mentioning Wonwoo, at least for now. He needs to sort out his own feelings before he drags his mother’s into the equation. “Won’t be back til late. Don’t wait up!”

**“Be safe.”**

Mingyu pulls open the door, and without thinking, he calls back, “I will!” He doesn’t wait for a reaction.

As he jogs to sidewalk across the street, he briefly considers taking his bike. Although the library isn’t absurdly far from Mingyu’s house, he doesn’t want to be late today. He thinks better of it, however, when he sees his breath. Judging by how overcast the sky is, it could precipitate. Mingyu’d rather not be caught with a bicycle in the middle of the rain, thank you very much.

He zips his sweatshirt up as his feet pound the pavement. He walks in silence for the better part of ten minutes, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. He’s about to see Wonwoo: that sentiment alone is enough to put a little bounce in his step.

When he turns the corner onto Main Street, he is affronted by countless more people. Despite it being relatively early, many people are taking advantage of the weekend by shopping, going out on dates, or simply spending time in the busier part of town.

Mingyu’s hands reach into his pockets by default, fumbling over his wallet and a pack of gum before settling on a pair of earbuds. Any time he encounters crowds of people, Mingyu blares music in an effort to tune them out. This habit has only gotten worse since he turned fifteen.

He pauses his stride, taking the knotted wires out of his pocket. Mingyu manages to untangle them, but just before he places the buds in his ears, he overhears a couple arguing. They look about Jeonghan’s age, maybe slightly older.

“So you’re saying these past few years don’t matter? That you were faking the entire time?” A girl demands with a firm tone, despite the quivering of her lower lip. **“Please. I love you so much. Anything is better than this… please tell me it wasn’t a lie.”**

A taller boy looks down at her, hanging his head. He responds quietly, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”   **“Nononononononononono,”** the volume of the voice in his head is so loud that Mingyu jumps.

“Is this the end?” the girl’s voice barely ventures above a whisper. “Are you sure?”

The boy hesitates, his head echoing,  **“I love you. Be happy. I don’t wanna hold you back from going to medical school.”** He says, “Yes. Goodbye, Shannon.” He turns around and walks away, leaving the girl standing dumbstruck on the sidewalk. She blindly shuffles to a nearby bench and sinks onto it.

Mingyu can’t help it. He wants to help. This is too much of a tragedy to not do anything about; it’s clear that she loves him and he loves her. Miscommunication is what gets in the way.

He watches for a moment as the girl pulls up the hood on her coat and hangs her head. After a few heaves of her shoulders, Mingyu can tell that she’s crying. As if it couldn’t get any worse, he can hear sobs coming from the inside of the girl’s mind.

Mingyu takes a deep breath and approaches the girl. Slowly, he takes a seat next to her. She sniffles a bit before raising her head. “Did you… hear any of that?” her voice catches at the end, making her sound even more pitiful.

“Yes,” Mingyu’s voice is low and calm. He tries to maintain a warm, friendly expression, but it’s getting progressively more difficult. “He loves you, you know.”

She lets out a watery, bitter laugh. “If he loved me, he wouldn’t have broken my heart.” She looks off into the distance.

Mingyu doesn’t know how to mend a relationship like this— he’s never done it before, after all. “Umm… do you want to be doctor, by any chance?” He asks, raising an eyebrow cautiously.

She wipes her tears on her sleeve. “Yes,” there is a slight layer of shock to her voice. “How did you…”

“Listen,” Mingyu says, making his voice as gentle as he can. “He’s worried that he’s holding you back from pursuing that dream.” Mingyu thinks for a moment before quickly adding, “Was there a point when you noticed a shift in your relationship?”

She sniffles again, thinking. “Maybe a few weeks ago, around the time I received my acceptance letter…” Her eyes widen as understanding spreads across her face. “Oh my god, he didn’t get in,” she takes a shaky breath. “We both applied to the same pre-med program at a really difficult school… he must’ve not gotten in.”

“I know this isn’t my place,” Mingyu interjects, “but you are in love with him. And he is in love with you, too. Trust me.”

“How do you know?” Her face glistens with tears as she looks up at Mingyu.

He offers a weak smile. “It’s part of my power,” he climbs to his feet. “Don’t let this love go to waste. I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary.”

She giggles softly, but her laughter is thick with tears. “You’re like Cupid.”

He rolls his eyes, smiling. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Just go get him, okay?”

She nods.  **“Thank you.”**

“Don’t mention it,” Mingyu says, waving. Her mouth falls open slightly until he mentions that it’s part of his power.  _I really have to stop responding to people out loud,_ he thinks to himself. They part ways and Mingyu finally shoves his earbuds into his ears.

He checks the clock on his phone. “Shit,” he mumbles, quickening his pace. He has to be quick if he wants to make it to the library on time. Putting on some loud music, he runs.

As the library comes into view, Mingyu sees a figure hunched over in a maroon sweater. “Hey,” Mingyu huffs, stopping a few feet from the person’s back. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath and regain his balance.

Wonwoo turns to him, and he feels all of the blood in his body rush to his face. Wonwoo looks a thousand times more adorable than he usually does, cheeks pink from the cold and hands retracted into his sleeves. “Hi,” he mumbles, smiling softly and waving one of his sweater paws at Mingyu.

Mingyu finds it  _extremely_ difficult to catch his breath because Wonwoo continues knocking the wind out of him. He stands straight up, pulling the headphones out of his ears and shoving them in his pocket. His hands fall to his sides. “You’re cute,” he spits. He can’t help it: he always seems to act impulsively around Wonwoo.

The sitting boy reddens further, smiling. “Stop it,” he bats the air with his hand and swings his feet.

Gathering his bearings, Mingyu takes a few steps forward. “Did you wanna go inside?” he extends a hand down to Wonwoo. “It’s kinda cold out here.”

“How are we supposed to talk in a library, silly goose,” Wonwoo takes Mingyu’s hand nonetheless, but drags him behind the library. “There’s something I wanna show you.”

Mingyu drops Wonwoo’s hand after a few seconds because his hand hurts from the angle they are at. Mingyu is being led by Wonwoo, after all. Still, when Mingyu breaks contact, he hears a mild,  **“Awwww…”** from Wonwoo’s brain.

Mingyu grins stupidly to himself. “Slow down, would you?” He calls. Wonwoo whips his head around. His face had become noticeably pinker, having spread to the tips of his ears and nose. “C’mere.” Although it is a command, it sounds more like a question coming from Mingyu’s lips.

Wonwoo silently shuffles a few feet toward Mingyu until they are shoulder to shoulder. “This way,” he points to a small gate in chain-link fence that runs parallel to the library.

“Is this allowed?” Mingyu asks, watching Wonwoo open the gate.

Wonwoo points to a sign next to the entrance. WELCOME TO PLEDIS PARK, it reads, listing rules beneath it. “Yup.”

Mingyu shrugs, falling a step or two behind Wonwoo. The path is too narrow for two people two walk down side-by-side without touching. They follow the path down a snow-covered hill into an area with a groves of trees.

The path widens, allowing them to stand next to one another. “These are peach trees,” Wonwoo points to the barren trunks on the left. “And these are apple trees,” he points to the trees on the right.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, his eyes falling on Wonwoo’s face. They’re closer than they were before, squishing into the center of the path. He notices a pair of thin, wire-frame glasses perched on the bridge of Wonwoo’s nose. They’re refined, cute, and soft-looking: they suit him well, Mingyu thinks. “Your glasses look nice.”

Wonwoo’s eyes pull away from the trees and settle on Mingyu. His smile blinds Mingyu, making warmth spread to his fingertips and toes. **“ _You_ look nice.”** Wonwoo mumbles a quick, “thank you” before averting his eyes. “Shall we continue?”

Mingyu sighs, coming up with an idea. “On one condition,” his eyes fall to where Wonwoo’s hands are pulled into his sleeves. “Could you walk with me?”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” Wonwoo chuckles a little bit, but slows his pace anyway so that they walk beside one another.

Mingyu feels his heart beat unusually fast in his chest. He takes a deep breath and lightly brushes his hand against Wonwoo’s. He hears a quiet **“oh”** from Wonwoo’s heart before mustering up the courage to continue. Mingyu fumbles with Wonwoo’s hand until he intertwines their fingers. **“Warm…”**

Mingyu squeezes his hand. “Sorry if my hands are sweaty,” he says, tempted to rub the back of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo whispers. **“If it weren’t so cold, my hands would be twice as sweaty as yours. You make me really nervous.”**

Mingyu chuckles. “Nervous? I’m about as frightening as Elmo.”

Wonwoo gasps, pulling his hand away. “Sorry. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

The smile falls from Mingyu’s face. “No, that was my fault. Sometimes it’s hard to when someone is thinking or speaking.” They continue walking in step with one another. “Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo glances at Mingyu out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Could I,” he breaks, suddenly feeling dumb. “Could I have your hand again?” He watches Wonwoo deadpan for a few seconds before adding quietly, “Please?”

A smile breaks across Wonwoo’s face. “Yes,” he slips his fingers in between Mingyu’s. They’re slightly clammier than earlier, which warms Mingyu’s heart. That means that Wonwoo isn’t as cold as he was a few minutes ago.

The path turns sharply into the woods, where the snowy trees create a cozy tunnel for them to walk through. “Seriously though, how did you find this place?” Mingyu asks. “I’ve lived here my entire life and I didn’t even know this _existed_.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I don’t really have friends, money, or things to do. I spend a lot of time in places like these, wasting time.” Something sad laces the shorter boy’s voice.

“I’m your friend,” Mingyu blurts without thinking. He hates seeing Wonwoo unhappy.

 **“I was hoping for more than that,”** Wonwoo thinks. Mingyu’s face flushes and he feels his heart pound in his chest. “Shit sorry,” Wonwoo mutters. “Did you hear that?” He doesn’t meet Mingyu’s eyes.

“Yeah.” They reach the end of the path, where there is a bench made from a fallen tree. It faces a river that is currently frozen over. As they sit down, Mingyu realizes how high up they are; it must be a hundred-foot drop to water’s surface.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo mumbles, letting go of Mingyu’s hand.  **“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”**

Mingyu grabs Wonwoo’s hand again, but it’s different this time. He wraps both of his large, warm hands around Wonwoo’s small, pale, cold one, enveloping it. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’ve never been more comfortable.” Wonwoo meets Mingyu’s eyes. “In fact, I was hoping for a little more than friendship, too.” He offers a weak smile.

Wonwoo tears his eyes away from Mingyu, looking at the frozen river. “I don’t know.”

Mingyu keeps Wonwoo’s hand tightly clamped between his own. “What’s wrong?” He asks, concerned.

“I’ve been hurt a lot,” Wonwoo’s voice is hoarse. “By many people.” He stops talking for a long time, and Mingyu doesn’t press him to continue. He doesn’t want Wonwoo to talk about things that make him upset, so he shuts up and lets Wonwoo think. “And I’ve been hurt by myself, too.”

“You don’t… still…” Mingyu’s heart stops, his eyes falling to where Wonwoo’s arms are concealed by a thick sweater. The thought of Wonwoo hurting himself makes Mingyu sick.

Wonwoo looks up at him. “No, it’s not that,” he corrects. “It’s this stupid power. It ruined my life.”

Mingyu nods, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He waits for Wonwoo to talk, but the boy doesn’t. Eventually, Mingyu decides to break the silence. “You can talk to me, if you want to. I won’t hurt you.” He waits a few seconds before whispering, “It’s also okay if you don’t wanna talk about it. But I’m here if you decide you do.”

Wonwoo’s still staring out into the river. He squeezes Mingyu’s hand, the movement be punctuated by a faint  **“thank you”**. He takes a deep breath and brings the sleeve of his sweater up to his face.

“It’s okay,” Mingyu whispers. Wonwoo turns to him and Mingyu takes his hands off of Wonwoo’s to wipe tears away from the smaller boy’s eyes.

Wonwoo takes a shaky breath. Mingyu can see the boy’s teeth chatter in the cold, and slides an arm around Wonwoo. “C’mere.” Wonwoo curls into Mingyu’s side and rests his head on Mingyu’s shoulder.

They stay like that for a long time. It begins to snow, the flakes coming down in large clumps and landing silently around them.

“I had a good upbringing,” Wonwoo says, shattering the silence that had been building up around them. “It was almost immaculate. I had an younger brother who spent time with me, a lot of friends who defended me, and a family who was mind-numbingly supportive. I got good grades, I was well-liked and popular, but most of all, I had a dream. A dream that was inches from becoming a reality.” Wonwoo’s voice is dull and heavy, but no longer accompanied by tears.

“There was this boy,” Wonwoo’s voice catches. “And we were inseparable. Our parents used to joke about us getting married when we were in the third grade. I’d known him all my life.” He stops talking and wraps his arms tightly around Mingyu’s torso. “Sorry, you’re really warm,” he digresses.

“It’s fine,” Mingyu stifles a shiver that threatens to run through his body.

It takes a few minutes before Wonwoo begins talking again. In fact, Mingyu thinks he may have fallen asleep. “The summer before my sophomore year, I confessed to him. And he reciprocated.” Wonwoo’s tone shifts as he says, “Or so I thought.”

Wonwoo changes the subject. “I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I could sing pretty darn well.” Wonwoo says, raising his voice a little. Mingyu can hear the smile on his lips as he speaks. “Which was good, because it was the only thing I really cared about doing with my life. I went to a performing arts school, and by the time I turned 14, I had been scouted by a record label. I was finally pursuing my dream… and I had a shot at success. I wanted to have my voice heard and I wanted to produce beautiful music. More than anything, I wanted to touch someone’s heart with my voice.”

“The final audition was held the day after my 15th birthday. It was televised, and all of my friends were watching.” He hushes his voice even further, “ _He_ was watching.” Wonwoo stops talking for a while and Mingyu feels a wet spot begin to form on his shoulder where Wonwoo’s head is laid. “I opened my mouth to sing. I got maybe three measures into the song, and I watched my dream die. Everyone was asleep.” He is sobbing. His words come out in short, choppy sentences in between gulps for air. “Everyone watching me on the TV. Everyone in the auditorium.  _Him._ ”

Mingyu strokes Wonwoo’s hair. He shifts, tenderly sliding Wonwoo’s glasses off of his face and placing them on the seat beside them. Wordlessly, the taller boy ran a thumb beneath Wonwoo’s eyes. After Wonwoo’s eyes were as dry as possible, he rested his head on Mingyu’s shoulder once again.

“I got scouted by a company that said that I could make music for insomniacs, which was just a slap in the face. No one could care about my music anymore… no one could listen to my lyrics or feel touched by what I had to say. My dream, my purpose, my _reason for living_ , died.”

His arms tighten around Mingyu’s ribs. “My boyfriend broke up with me. He said that I wasn’t ‘his type’ anymore. He said that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ or something.”

Anger flares in Mingyu’s gut. How could someone say something so awful to Wonwoo? Sweet, kind, perfect Wonwoo… who could possibly be such a dick?

“That’s when things really started to get bad,” Wonwoo says. “My grades began to suffer and I was ostracized by my friends. After all, I no longer belonged at a performing arts school. I could no longer perform.” Mingyu holds Wonwoo, waiting patiently until the cold, small boy feels strong enough to speak.

“My parents thought a fresh start would be good for me. Jun is my next door neighbor’s cousin, and his family said that the public high school wasn’t too bad. So here I am.”

“Wow,” Mingyu rests his chin on Wonwoo’s head. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Sorry for burdening you with it,” Wonwoo sighs into Mingyu’s neck, his words beginning to slow. “It felt good to finally tell someone about it, though. Thanks.”

“It’s not a burden,” Mingyu says. “I love listening to you.”

“Mmmm,” Wonwoo pressed his face into Mingyu, and within seconds, his breath evens. Mingyu glances down and can hardly believe what he sees; Wonwoo is asleep.

“You’ve earned it,” Mingyu whispers, resting his head on Wonwoo. It only takes a minute before he’s asleep, too.

 

“It’s your fault,” Wonwoo laughs, scrambling after Mingyu up the hill. He stops for a moment to push his glasses higher on his nose bridge. The sun sets behind the library. “ _You’re_ the one who suggested we come here at 10 am!”

“Oh, so now I’m getting penalized for wanting to spend time with you?” Mingyu laughs, opening the gate. Their lighthearted back-and-forth contrasts nicely with the dramatic discussion they had a few hours ago. Mingyu notices that Wonwoo is opening up to him, laughing and smiling more and not afraid to speak up. Happiness looks good on him.

“Yup,” Wonwoo shivers visibly as he brushes against the cold metal.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, throwing an arm around Wonwoo. “Let’s go get coffee. My treat, even though you owe me.”

“Really?” Wonwoo beams. “My hero,” he clasps his hands together, “saving me from this bitter cold.” He laughs, “Seriously, how could I fall asleep in this?”

“You did talk a lot,” Mingyu pats Wonwoo on the head. “You were tired.”

“I don’t care how tired I was, it’s still super freezing.” Wonwoo shivers.

Mingyu pushes open the door to a coffee shop on Main Street. “What do you want to drink?” He asks Wonwoo.

“Hmmm… hot cocoa? Please?” The pleading look in Wonwoo’s eyes as he asks for permission makes Mingyu’s heart melt.

“Whatever your heart desires, sweetheart,” Mingyu responds, almost cringing at the cheesiness of it.

“Ew, you’re gross,” Wonwoo wrinkles his nose as he smiles.  **“I think I just had a heart attack from cuteness. Is death by cuteness a thing?”**

Mingyu snorts. “I’d be dead already if it was.”

Instead of being annoyed by Mingyu intruding his thoughts, Wonwoo just laughs. Mingyu turns to the barista. “Two hot cocoas, please.”

“For here or to go?” She responds, pressing buttons on the cash register.

“Here,” Mingyu says without thinking.

She nods. “Will that be all?”

He looks at Wonwoo. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Is that even a question?” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath. He turns to the barista and points to the largest piece of chocolate cheesecake Mingyu’s ever seen. “I would like that, please.”

She nods again, taking the cheesecake out of the display case and placing it on a plate. “Anything for you?” She asks Mingyu.

“Ummm,” Mingyu looks at the menu above him. The only dinner-like options they have are small, finger sandwiches. He’s starving, though, so it’ll have to suffice. “Could I have some of the Medittaranean sandwiches, please?”

“Of course,” she takes the cold sandwiches from the display case as well and tells the boys their total. Mingyu hands her cash.

“Someone will bring you your drinks shortly,” she smiles and hands him his change. “Thank you.”

He nods politely and gives her a curt smile. “Thank you.” Taking their food, he follows Wonwoo to their seats.

The sun has already sunk beneath the horizon. “Sorry for keeping you out so late, lemme know if you have to go home…” Mingyu starts.

Wonwoo’s already digging into his cheesecake. **“Cheesecake…”** his heart sighs. “It’s all good… who would pass up free cheesecake and quality time with a dreamboat?”

Mingyu laughs. “Dreamboat?” he questions, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Uh-huh,” Wonwoo looks up from his food and grins, his cheeks puffed out. There’s bits of chocolate stuck in the corners of his mouth, but he’s endearing this way. “You’re so _dreamy_.”

The way Wonwoo says ‘dreamy’ has Mingyu’s heart doing somersaults. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Mingyu says exasperatedly, wiping food off of Wonwoo’s chin. “You’re like a giant baby.”

“I _do_ have baby-smooth skin, so thanks,” Wonwoo swallows, putting down his fork to shoot finger guns.

Mingyu chortles, putting his head in his hands. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Wonwoo shrugs. He finishes his cheesecake as their drinks arrive.

“Thank you very much!” Wonwoo is glowing with joy as the young girl places their cocoa on the table.

“You’re very welcome!” She matches Wonwoo’s enthusiasm and whisks back to behind the counter.

Wonwoo notices Mingyu staring as he sips his cocoa. “What? Do I still have cheesecake on my face?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah,” Mingyu reaches across the table and touches Wonwoo’s bottom lip with his thumb.

 **“That made me way too nervous,”** Wonwoo’s inner voice sounds enamored, which only makes Mingyu happier.

“I think you might be magic,” Mingyu says after a few seconds of watching Wonwoo chug his steaming cocoa.

“It’s not magic,” Wonwoo says, placing the empty mug on the table. “When you eat boiling soup on a daily basis for 16 years, you develop a tolerance for really hot things.”  **“That’s probably why I can handle spending so much time with _you_.”**

Mingyu laughs, “That! Right there!” Mingyu points at Wonwoo. “That’s why you’re magic! You make me feel like I’m floating or something,” he sips his cocoa .

The joking look on Wonwoo’s face softens into a thin smile. “Nah,” he draws out the syllable. “That’s just the cocoa talking.”

“Wonwoo, I think people only say that about alcohol.” He chuckles, finishing up his cocoa.

“Sometimes cocoa affects you the same way alcohol does,” he smiles.

Mingyu pulls out his phone, which reads 6:30. “Wanna get outta here?” Wonwoo nods, getting up. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.”

“Okay, yeah… I live in the apartments near Starship University.” He smiles as they step into the cold. “It’s a bit far…”

“... that’s good. I’ll get more time with you, then.” He smiles.

 **“My palms are sweating so much,”** Wonwoo thinks.

“Lemme feel,” Mingyu slyly slips his hand into Wonwoos as they stroll down Main Street.

“Smooth,” Wonwoo comments, pressing into Mingyu’s side as they walk. Once they turn off of Main Street, the streets become less crowded. They walk, hand in hand, down the dimly lit streets, talking and laughing.

“What do you want to do next time?” Mingyu asks as they turn down Wonwoo’s street.

“Next time?” Wonwoo inquires.

“Yeah,” Mingyu shrugs, looking down at Wonwoo out of the corner of his eye. “I mean, this was a date, right?”

 **“Yeah,”** Wonwoo grins.

“And you organized it,” Mingyu slows as the apartment complex comes into view. “So I’ll take you somewhere next time. Is there anything you wanna do?”

Wonwoo is quiet for a few seconds, pondering something. “Oh! I got it!” Wonwoo lifts a finger into the air to signify the idea he had. “The spring carnival comes to town next week…”

“Sounds perfect,” they stop in front of Wonwoo’s building.

“Well,” Wonwoo breathes, pulling away so that they are facing one another. “I’ll see you in school.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck.

They bask in the awkward silence, both unsure of how to proceed. That is, until Mingyu hears a faint, **“Kiss me.”**

He wastes no time, leaning down in one languid movement. He feels time slow down. Wonwoo’s lips are pillowy and soft, but ice cold. His lips taste like cocoa. Mingyu applies a little more pressure, squinting harshly before pulling away.

“See you in sch—” Mingyu is interrupted by Wonwoo, who crushes his lips against Mingyu’s. He moves this time, throwing his arms around Mingyu’s neck and pressing his body into the taller boy. Mingyu is taken aback, but quickly catches on and places his hands in the small of Wonwoo’s back.

The kiss is so deep that Mingyu feels as if he could drown. Drowning in Wonwoo would be a nice way to die, Mingyu thinks.

When they finally break apart, Mingyu clears his throat. They smile at each other, admiring their swollen mouths and flushed faces. “See you in school,” he says.

“Yup.” Mingyu watches Wonwoo skip inside. And, even from outside, Mingyu can hear Wonwoo sigh, **“What a dreamboat.”**

Mingyu beams at the light casting shadows on the street. He stumbles home, failing to walk in a straight line and constantly swaying. Maybe Wonwoo was right: maybe the cocoa is affecting him.

Or maybe it’s the cheesecake-loving boy that prevents him from walking straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys I'M BACKKKKKKK... sorry for the wait!! this was a long chapter to write and I haven't really had free time in weeks, but today it was snowing and I was motivated so WHAM i finished up the chapter for y'all!!! I hope you like it!
> 
> Sorry if it's boring in some spots... I tried to liven it up toward the end. I watched a substantial amount of kdrama today so there might be a few cliches. I hope it isn't toooooo bad hehe
> 
> ummmm... there must be something I'm forgetting, but I can't put my finger on it.
> 
> Look forward to the future of this tale!! there's a soonseok intermission in the works :)
> 
> as always, your support is appreciated. thanks so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting... YOU'RE ALL SO SWEET OH MY GOODNESSSSSS 
> 
> feel free to talk to me on twitter or tumblr (@acceptuality) nd i hope you have a great night/day !!!


	11. mist (intermission)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seokmin has feelings. Now he has to decide what to do with them.

“He’s not saying anything yet,” Mingyu mumbles to Seokmin, both of their eyes fixed on the superhuman across the gym. Soonyoung is laughing and running in circles around a group of students, presumably freshmen who haven’t turned 15 yet. This picture is a stark contrast from the two boys glaring and leaning against the wall.

Seokmin sighs. “Is that a good thing?” he whines, his eyes not wavering from Soonyoung.

“Depends,” Mingyu says. “Probably.”

“What does that mean?” Seokmin asks, his voice mildly accusatory. He can’t help but feel a little irritated: when he’d asked Mingyu to help him deal with Soonyoung, he hadn’t expected it to be so _boring_.

“I mean,” Mingyu clears his throat, shrugging. “If I can’t hear anything, he must not be thinking anything particularly romantic.”

“Oh,” Seokmin smiles to himself. Even still, waiting for Mingyu to hear Soonyoung’s heart is making him anxious. What if he finds out something that he doesn’t want to know? Seokmin takes a few shaky breaths to calm his nerves.

“Dude, it’s okay,” Mingyu rolls his eyes, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been hearing you guys exchange telepathic sweet-nothings for the past 6 months. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Seokmin stifles a grin, bouncing on his heels. “It’s just stressing me out.”

“Need I remind you that _you_ asked  _me_ to listen to Soonyoung’s heart?” Mingyu smirks, glancing at Seokmin out of the corner of his eyes.

Seokmin doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t exactly have an adequate response. Luckily, he doesn’t have to come up with one.

“Oh!” Mingyu exclaims. “I hear something.” They both return their focus to Soonyoung, noticing that he is currently engaged in an animated conversation with the short, pink-haired boy. Seokmin can’t remember that kid’s name for the life of him.

His heart falters; Soonyoung’s heart beats for that short kid, not for Seokmin. Suddenly, he hates the color pink. “Don’t tell me.” He hangs his head. _I guess I’m gonna have to work on concealing my feelings_ , he thinks.

“You’re gonna wanna hear this.” Something in Mingyu’s voice gives Seokmin the courage to look up. Mingyu is smiling, staring off into the distance at Soonyoung.

Seokmin’s voice ventures barely above a whisper. “What’s he thinking?”

Mingyu narrates Soonyoung’s internal monologue. “This is nice. Jihoon is cute and funny and strong,” Seokmin can feel his heart breaking with every word. Then Mingyu shouts, causing Seokmin to jump.

“What the hell?” Seokmin clutches his heart, attempting to coax it to it’s resting rate.

“Sorry, he got really fucking loud all the sudden,” Mingyu shakes his head a few times, then returns to his mission. He lowers his voice and raises his fingers, making air quotations. “ _But my smile-man is better._ ”

Seokmin feels heat spread across his face. _Is this enough of a sign? Should I just go talk to him? I hate the way things have been going and how tense things have been between us all of the sudden—_

“Just talk to him,” Mingyu shakes Seokmin gently, jostling him out of his inner spiral of confusion. This never fails to surprise Seokmin: he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to having a friend who can read his mind. Even though it’s not all the time, Mingyu’s telepathy gives him the heebie-jeebies.

“I will,” Seokmin shifts his weight from foot to foot and stares off into the distance at Soonyoung and Jihoon. “How old is he, anyway? Is he even old enough to  _be_ in high school?” He gestures bitterly at the small boy with pink hair.

Mingyu stares at Seokmin incredulously, giggling lightly under his breath. “You’re not serious,” he says. Seokmin shrugs, clearly unaware of what’s so funny. “He’s a grade ahead of us.”

Seokmin’s mouth forms a tiny ‘o’ as he nods in disbelief. If Jihoon is a junior, that means that he’s the same age as Soonyoung. They could have known each other in elementary school, maybe they were in the same class. Not many people know that Soonyoung was held back a grade, but Seokmin knows it all too well. He can remember the day he found out.

(The day of Soonyoung’s elementary school graduation was supposed to be overcast. The clouds overhead blurred together, creating an enveloping grey-ness, and there was an incessant mist falling from the sky.

Hundreds of parents and relatives piled into the gymnasium, where the ceremony was being held. Seokmin and his family were invited by the Kwon’s because they had lived next door to each other since Seokmin was two.

A bright-eyed fourth grader, Seokmin swung his feet back and forth as he scanned the children lined up in the front of the room. They each had special shirts draped over them, decorated with emblems and badges from their teachers as well as drawings that they had done. Seokmin gawked at each one of them, excitedly anticipating the following year. After a few minutes of perusing the fifth graders, his heart rate began to pick up. Soonyoung wasn’t there.

Seokmin’s head whirled in panic. He tugged on his mother’s sleeve, interrupting her conversation with another mother. _Mom, I think Soonyoung overslept._

She chuckled, looking down at her son. _Don’t be ridiculous, Min. I’m sure he’s up there. Just keep looking._

So he did. He looked at each student’s face a thousand times… at least it felt like a thousand times. He felt his eyes growing more and more watery with each second.

 _Mom,_ he tugged on her sleeve again. _Mom, he’s really not here. I think we should call Ms. Kwon._ She looked down at Seokmin again, this time with less patience.

 _Not now. We can call her after._ Punctuating her words, the murmur of the crowd died down as the principal’s voice came over the loudspeaker. The ceremony was beginning… without Soonyoung. Everything about it was wrong, but Seokmin sat there, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line to prevent them from quivering.

Sure enough, there were no students named Soonyoung Kwon called up for a certificate. No one seemed to notice that the funniest, kindest, and most generous boy was missing graduation. No one seemed to _care_.

Seokmin was quiet on the car ride home, not bothering to complain to his parents. They made it clear that they didn’t particularly care whether Soonyoung was there or not. Parents never understand children, do they? They think that because a child is small, their pain must be small, also. The world ends the same for children as adults, but adults fail to recognize that the world ends for anyone except themselves. Aging kills compassion.

When they pulled into their driveway, Seokmin ran across the street immediately. He rang the doorbell once and stepped back, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Finally, Ms. Kwon answered the door.

 _Is Soonyoung home? Is he sick? Did he oversleep?_ Seokmin forgot about his manners as the words spilled out of his mouth.

She offered only a sad smile. _He’s not feeling well. He’s asleep right now— maybe you should come back later._ She tried to deter Seokmin using her words, but the boy wasn’t going to budge.

 _I’ll be really quiet. I promise I won’t wake him up._  Something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the misty rain that was slowly turning into fat droplets, or maybe it was the strange expression on Ms. Kwon’s face. Seokmin didn’t know what it was, but he knew that he wanted to see Soonyoung.

She sighed. _Okay._ She reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Seokmin into the foyer. He kicked off the dress shoes that he had worn to the ceremony and tiptoed up the stairs to Soonyoung’s bedroom. He rapped quietly on the door three times, just in case Soonyoung happened to be awake. After he heard no response, Seokmin came in.

Closing the door behind him, he watched the figure curled up on the bed. Soonyoung had his back to the door, his body rising and falling with his breaths. At first, Seokmin thought he was just asleep. Then he noticed the jagged unevenness of Soonyoung’s movements. His heart stopped. The room was quiet, save the gentle pounding of the rain on the roof above Soonyoung’s room.

And a soft whimpering sound, barely audible, coming from the body on the bed. Seokmin padded across the floor and rested a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder. Soonyoung didn’t move, but his crying grew minutely louder. Seokmin crawled into bed behind Soonyoung, hands searching for the other boy’s. Soonyoung sniffled and rolled over.

His face was puffy, red, and wet, but he had a huge smile plastered on his face. It only made Seokmin hurt more: the smile was so fake, so far from what Soonyoung normally looked like, that it looked painful. Giving Soonyoung’s hands a squeeze, Seokmin dropped them. Soonyoung’s bottom lip quivered and Seokmin reached out, pressing the older boy into his arms.

Soonyoung was sobbing and Seokmin didn’t know why. It didn’t matter that Soonyoung was upset. All that mattered was that Seokmin was there to help him through it.

Later that evening, Ms. Kwon told Seokmin that Soonyoung had to repeat fifth grade.

On that day, they held hands and cried in Soonyoung’s bedroom. A year later, they held hands and cried in the front of the gymnasium. Their elementary school graduation was sunny and warm.)

The bell rings, dragging Seokmin away from his thoughts. “Looks like you’re on your own for now, buddy,” Mingyu claps Seokmin awkwardly on the back, walking toward the locker room. “Not that I’d be much help, anyway. I’ve told you everything.”

Seokmin trails behind Mingyu. _Mingyu’s right. I just have to talk to him. Simple._ He takes deep breaths, careful to keep his heartbeat at a decent pace. He’s borderline cheerful when he slings his backpack over his shoulder, having made up his mind. Smiling widely, he walks toward Soonyoung, who’s talking to Jihoon.

Soonyoung throws himself at Jihoon, wrapping the shorter in a playful hug. The corners of Seokmin’s mouth fall as he watches the two grapple with each other. Jealousy is not a familiar emotion to him, and therefore not a comfortable one. Something in Seokmin’s stomach burns.

Jihoon collapses, clutching his sides and laughing. Soonyoung looks momentarily puzzled. As Jihoon’s eyes begin to water and his face contorts into a mask of pain and confusion, Soonyoung’s eyes are scanning the room. He settles them on Seokmin.

They lock eyes. Seokmin stares at Soonyoung. Soonyoung stares back. Behind him, Jihoon gets up, and Seokmin vaguely registers a _what the fuck was that_ coming from the short boy’s mouth.

Very slowly, a smile begins to spread across Soonyoung’s face. It begins in his eyes, Seokmin notices; before his mouth even _threatens_ to show signs of glee, Soonyoung’s eyes start to sparkle. Then his mouth quirks upward, smushing his cheeks against his eyes and turning his entire face into the embodiment of sunshine. Seokmin catches himself wondering why he is called “Smile Man DK” when Soonyoung has a smile like  _that_.

Seokmin smiles back and, suddenly, everything makes sense again. Standing across the room from Soonyoung, he forgets what he was so concerned about in the first place. “Drive me home,” he yells, laughing when Soonyoung jumps. Despite having superhuman strength, speed, and agility, he gets startled easily.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Duh,” he gestures for Seokmin to follow him.

With Soonyoung’s back is turned to him, Seokmin has the perfect angle to force the superhuman into an impromptu piggyback ride. Getting a running start, he pounces on Soonyoung, latching his legs around the older boy’s torso and clutching at his neck and arms.

“Andale!” Seokmin screams in Soonyoung’s ear. Soonyoung laughs, mumbling a goodbye to Jihoon as they walk out the gymnasium doors. Seokmin buries his face in Soonyoung’s straw-like hair, not minding when the occasional strand gets in his mouth.

“Ugh, you’re hurting my back,” Soonyoung jokes, dumping Seokmin in the passenger’s seat of his car. “I’m an old man, you know.”

Seokmin just sticks his tongue out as Soonyoung starts the car. Seokmin blasts the radio as they pull out of the student parking lot. They laugh, talking about their days and complaining about their teachers. Soonyoung mentions Jihoon briefly, but it doesn’t bother Seokmin nearly as much as it had before.

Seokmin won’t confess today. Why should he? He already has all he wants— a best friend who makes him laugh and looks out for him. And for now, that’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOO IM NOT DEAD !!!  
> sorry there's no meanie in this one, only mild pining soonseok... there'll be more of the standard storyline that you signed up for next time (whenever that may be haha)
> 
> OKAy so im not making excuses but this last month was a bit busy. ya know, with  
> sats and  
> ap tests and  
> going to southeast asia for two weeks (and adjusting to thE 11 HOUR TIME DIFFERENCE AHHHHHH) 
> 
> so ye. busy. 
> 
> BUT I'M BACK AND I WANNA WRITE MORE SO I'LL DO MY BEST! I'm sorry if this chapter is shit and doesn't stay true to character... I may have accidentally made Seokmin sound too much like Mingyu.. ooops sue me :/
> 
> also who's ready for the comeback!?? certainly not me... i need to emotionally prepare myself... ahh i'm so stoked tho it looks so gooodddd 
> 
> hit me up on twitter if you want @acceptuality :)  
> see you soon! i love you all and thank you for the positive feedback and kudos!!!!!!! hope you have a lovely night/day


	12. a giant sunflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring makes everything lovelier.

Winter slowly— ever so slowly— melts into Spring. The sun rises earlier in the morning and sets later in the evening, giving more hours of sunshine to the gaggle of high schoolers that Mingyu calls his friends. Everything is bright: the grass, a vibrant shade of green, is dotted with dandelions, and the cloudless sky is a peaceful shade of blue. Even the air smells sweeter, probably due to the apple trees beginning to bloom.

“Hey,” Minghao says, disrupting Mingyu’s listening to the birds. The two boys are lounging on Mingyu’s driveway, enjoying a warm Sunday afternoon and burning twigs with a magnifying glass. A breeze comes, ruffling Minghao’s hair and causing him to push it out of his eyes. “We should go on a double date or something.”

Mingyu blinks at him before laughing. “I don’t think so,” he says, shaking his head. Although Wonwoo and him have been going strong for a month or two, they don't get to be alone together very much. They've had plenty of dates, sure, but they're all overshadowed by obligations, schoolwork, or friends. They’ve only had one true date… well, maybe one and a half, if Mingyu counts the time Wonwoo came over, ate his cookies, and ran away. Remembering the shy boy with sweater paws from that day brings a fond smile to Mingyu’s mouth.

“Awww, come  _on_ ,” Minghao whines, setting down the magnifying glass. “It would be fun! Really casual, just a few bros being dudes...” He lowers his voice slightly, “... and making out with each other. No biggie.”

Mingyu hits Minghao lightly on the shoulder. “You should have a little more shame, Hao.”

“Never,” Minghao retorts, extending his wings in order to dart out of Mingyu’s reach.

Mingyu remembers something. “Actually, what’s the date?”

The sudden question catches Minghao off guard. He thinks for a moment, looking over at Mingyu. “April 16th,” Minghao says slowly. Then, returning his eyes to the driveway, he asks, “Why?”

Mingyu smiles, thinking about the plans he’d made with Wonwoo last Monday.

( _I think you should meet my parents_ , Mingyu said. Wonwoo bat his eyelashes twice before taking another bite of ice cream. Since the weather began to warm up, they had made it a Monday after-school tradition to walk to the convenient store. Mingyu would always be the one to buy, probably because Wonwoo paid for their movie dates every other Saturday morning. They saw films on Saturday mornings because it was cheaper than any other time during the week.

 _Okay_ , Wonwoo said with his mouth full. _Are they… open-minded?_ He was apprehensive, as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

 _Oh yeah, they’re cool._ Mingyu leaned over, taking a massive mouthful of Wonwoo’s ice cream. _You don’t need to worry._

 _C’mon, we have the same flavor!_ Wonwoo complained, hitting Mingyu lightly on the shoulder with his free hand.

Mingyu swooped in to plant a gentle kiss on Wonwoo’s mouth. Those were his favorite; when Wonwoo’s mouth was cold and sweet and unsuspecting. He’d always smile into Mingyu’s mouth before kissing back. And Mingyu would always hear a soft sigh in the back of his mind.  _Yeah, but yours tastes better._ He smirked.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and returned to his ice cream. After a few minutes of people-watching silence, Wonwoo whispered, _What if they don’t like me?_ Punctuating his words, Mingyu heard,  _ **I really want them to like me.**_

 _They’ll like you,_ Mingyu said matter-of-factly. Wonwoo still looked unsure, so Mingyu nudged him playfully, adding, _It’s impossible not to._

They shared a smile and a kiss, planning to have dinner at Mingyu’s on Sunday. Calling his mother, he made sure that she was available. _Oh, I’m finally meeting this Wonwoo you’re always talking about?_ She asked incredulously. He could hear the amusement in her voice.

 _Yep,_ he said. After a few more seconds of back and forth, he hung up. He was finally going to tell his parents that this ‘Wonwoo’ wasn’t just his friend.)

As if on cue, Mingyu’s phone rings. It’s Wonwoo. “We were just talking about you,” Mingyu says.

He can hear Wonwoo scoff on the receiver. “Hello to you too.”

“Hello,” Mingyu mumbles, not entirely embarrassed, but not exactly unabashed either. “What time are you coming over?”

“Soon,” Wonwoo says. “It’s almost 5… what time did you want me there?”

“As soon as possible,” Mingyu whines. “The more time you’re here, the better.” He takes a breath, looking down at Minghao, who is crouched on the driveway. His face is screwed up as he concentrates on the task at hand; burning twigs. “I’m about to kick Minghao out anyway.”

“What the hell?” Minghao yells, flying at least twenty feet in the air. He’s so high up, in fact, that he has to scream in order to be heard. “You have to catch me first!”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Nevermind,” he’s learned to give up early when it comes to Minghao. “But if you come now, I’ll borrow some of Minseo’s sidewalk chalk…”

“I’m on my way!” Wonwoo yells into the phone and the line goes dead. _I knew that would do the trick,_ Mingyu thinks. Wonwoo is like a child— enjoying the simpler things in life. Offer him a toy, a good book, or something sweet, and he’ll remain entertained for hours.

This is no exception.

Wonwoo arrives 11 minutes later, out of breath and shiny with sweat. He’s wearing a T-shirt with polka dots and his hair looks effortlessly disheveled, pushed haphazardly over his head. “Where’s the chalk?” Wonwoo pants, his eyes open wide.

Mingyu beams, tapping the box next to his foot. Minghao is already invested in blending colors together to create different shades, and Wonwoo scrambles past Mingyu to help him. “What am I, chopped liver?”

The two boys strewn across the driveway grunt in unison, neither confirming nor denying. Mingyu sighs, plopping onto the ground next to them. He sits cross-legged with his elbow resting on his thigh and his chin resting on his hand.

Wonwoo is genuinely enthralled with the chalk drawings he is making.  **“Oh, and next I’ll use yellow…”** his heart exclaims giddily. He can’t feel annoyed with Wonwoo— not when he’s drawing a picture of a giant sunflower in Mingyu’s driveway.

A few moments of near-silence, interrupted only by the occasional voice of Wonwoo humming  **“Blue…”** or **“Maybe pink would be nice…”** , pass. Wonwoo finishes his drawing, satisfied. He looks up at Mingyu, grinning. His skin appears to be glowing in the sun.

“What do you think?” He asks, proud.

Mingyu looks at the drawing. It’s beautiful. No; beautiful is an understatement. It’s _stunning_. Wonwoo had managed to shade using the sidewalk chalk, making the flowers appear to be jumping off the driveway. Three flowers— a pink tulip, a periwinkle pansy, and a _giant_ sunflower— were now laying in the middle of Mingyu’s driveway.

His mouth falls open. “What the fuck?” He almost shouts, pointing at the pictures. _“How?”_

Wonwoo is struck, at first, by Mingyu’s reaction.  **“Do you not like them?”**

Before Mingyu can respond, Minghao exclaims, “Holy balls, dude, you make Da Vinci look like a third grader.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu nods in affirmation. “How the fuck did you learn to draw like that?”

Wonwoo smiles brightly. “I dunno,” he shrugs. “Performing arts schools make you take a lot of art classes. This actually isn’t _that_ good.”

“Fuck you, man,” Minghao says, throwing his chalk back in the box. “That’s so goddamn beautiful, how dare you.”

Wonwoo laughs at the winged boy’s mock frustration. Minghao flies, doing circles above the couple’s heads.

Mingyu checks the time. “Go home, you glorified bumblebee!” He yells, drawing attention to Minghao’s yellow and black striped shirt.

“Whatever you say, Cupid!” He sticks out his tongue at Mingyu, who attempts to throw chalk at the flying figure. Minghao dodges it and, giving Wonwoo a cordial wave, flutters down the street.

“Ready when you are,” Mingyu says, his voice adopting a different, gentler tone. When he’s alone with Wonwoo, he ends up talking more softly. Wonwoo is like a woodland mammal; Mingyu’s often afraid he’ll scare him away.

“Ah, okay,” Wonwoo’s face looks calm, but his voice shakes. _He’s nervous,_ Mingyu thinks.  _Cute._

“Don’t worry,” Mingyu reassures, reaching for Wonwoo’s hand. “We’re in this together,” he gives his hand a squeeze.

Wonwoo nods. **“Still nervous though.”**

“Once you meet my mom, you won’t be,” Mingyu smiles. Wonwoo knows about her abilities, but _knowing_ is different from _understanding_. And Mingyu doesn’t think he fully understands yet.

“Okay,” Wonwoo’s voice sounds slightly more stable. So, helping him up, Mingyu leads Wonwoo into his house.

“Mom!” Mingyu yells, pulling off his shoes. Wonwoo stands, uncomfortable, in the doorway. The nervous energy radiating off of Wonwoo is enough to set Mingyu on edge. “We’re here!”

His mother has her back to them, standing in the kitchen. She turns.  **“Why’s he so anxious?”** Her face looks concerned.

“Not exactly sure,” Mingyu answers her unspoken question. “I told him that there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Sometimes it’s not as simple as that, Gyu,” she says. Wonwoo flinches when she speaks. She walks toward him, giving a small smile. “You must be Wonwoo. Nice to meet you,” she holds out her hand, speaking in a voice suitable for small children.

He takes her hand and a warm smile flickers across his face. “Nice to meet you, too,” he says, tilting his head. “And that was awesome.”

Mingyu whips his head around, looking at Wonwoo, then his mother, then Wonwoo again. He notices a difference in his expression. “She did it, didn’t she?” He asks. “She made your nerves go away?”

Wonwoo nods, keeping his eyes locked on the woman. “Thank you, Ms. Kim.”

She laughs. “Please,” she waves her hand in the air like she’s swatting a mosquito, “call me Nana!”

“Alright, Nana,” he says, lowering his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you take off your shoes, Wonwoo,” she says, moving back to the kitchen. “The food’s not ready yet, but I made some iced tea earlier, if you’re thirsty.” She points to the fridge. “We’re having burgers… I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s great,” Wonwoo says, pulling off his shoes. “Thank you.” He leads the way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Mingyu watches in awe as Wonwoo chats with his mother: they talk like old friends, not to mention, Wonwoo is perfectly polite. “Where are the cups, Nana?”

“Over here,” she says, opening a cupboard and handing Wonwoo a highball glass.

He pours himself some iced tea. “Thank you, this is delicious!” He returns the pitcher to the fridge.  **“Perfect amount of sweetness,”** Wonwoo’s inner-voice sounds like he’s smiling.

Nana glances at Mingyu out of the corner of her eye. **“I like this kid,”** she smiles. **“And I’d be fine if you liked him, too, if you know what I mean.”** It’s amazing how much she can convey with just a look.

Mingyu nods. “Your intuition really is unparalleled, Mom,” he chuckles.

“C’mon, Mingyu, it doesn’t take a _genius_ to figure out you’re dating,” she laughs, cutting tomatoes and carrots to put in a salad.

Wonwoo chokes on his drink. “What? How?” He sputters half-formulated thoughts, but somehow, it makes sense.

Nana brushes the vegetables into a massive glass bowl before setting down the knife. Then, swiveling, she makes eye contact with Wonwoo. “He talks about you all the time,” she informs him. “He tells me about all the dates you go on, but he pretends they aren’t dates.” She pauses, laughing. “But how many ‘friends’ go to the movies by themselves every other weekend?”

“Mom!” Mingyu reddens, embarrassed, shoving his face in his hands. She giggles, but her laughter is drowned out by a voice.  **“Don’t be embarrassed. That’s adorable.”** Mingyu raises his eyes to meet Wonwoo’s.

“Really?” Wonwoo’s voice comes out syrupy-sweet, quiet, and amused.

“Uh-huh,” she nods, crossing her arms across her chest. “If I didn’t already know he was gay, I would have been questioning some things.”

 _“Mom!”_ Mingyu holds himself back from stomping his foot. “Quit it,” he hisses, “you’re embarrassing me.”

She just smiles, lifting her shoulder up and letting them fall. “It’s my job.”

“When did he come out to you?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.

Puzzled, she makes a small noise in the back of her throat.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sorry if I overstepped some boundary.” He swivels his head back and forth between the mother and son, babbling an apology. “I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to tell me anyth—”

“Oh no, it’s alright,” Nana cuts him off, holding up her hands to mime that ‘everything’s fine’. “I just assumed he’d already told you.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, his lips pressed into a firm line.

Nana shifts her attention to Mingyu. “Do you want me to tell it, or would you rather... ?” she trails off.

“Go for it,” he takes a seat next to Wonwoo, preparing to hear the same coming-out story he’s heard a thousand times.

“It’s actually kind of cute,” Mingyu’s mother smiles, shaking her head fondly. Mingyu’s eyes are glued to his boyfriend, gauging his reaction. So far, Wonwoo’s face looks expectant. It’s so fucking cute, it’s hurting Mingyu’s chest. “He was about 12, I think. My cousin-in-law, Minki, was getting married. So Mingyu’s father and I took the kids to the wedding.”

“It was the first wedding I’ve been to,” Mingyu chimes in. Wonwoo turns to look at Mingyu, smiling at his voice.

He looks back at Nana as she resumes talking. “Minki was getting married to another man, however, not a woman. One of my friends asked me if I ‘really wanted my kids to be seeing that’,” she rolls her eyes. “Needless to say, we aren’t friends anymore. Homophobes and me,” she shakes her head, making an ‘x’ with her arms, “don’t mix.”

Mingyu watches the corners of Wonwoo’s mouth quirk up.  **“She’s so cool.”**

“Anyway, back to the wedding,” she shuts her eyes for a second, remembering. “It was outside. Mingyu was at my left and Minseo was at my right. While Minki and his husband were saying their vows, I felt a little tug on the sleeve of my dress.”

Mingyu sees a picture of twelve-year-old him flash through his mother’s mind.

“He held up one finger, wiggling it toward himself, trying to get me to lean in closer. He had something to say,” Nana’s words are getting slower, more drawn out, trying to make the whole situation more suspenseful. Wonwoo hangs onto every word. “He said ‘I want to do that’ and pointed to Minki.”

Wonwoo exhales a breath that Mingyu didn’t notice he was holding.  **“Closeted Mingyu sounds cute.”** Mingyu smiles to himself, staring at his palms.

Nana’s laugh is hearty and full, coming from her belly. “At first I thought he was talking about marriage, and I said that someday he would get married, too,” she paused. “If he wasn’t ready to come out, that would have been the perfect opportunity to back down. In hindsight, I realize that.” Her tone sobers. “But he was ready to come out, I suppose. So he corrected me.”

Mingyu jumps in, using a falsetto tone to mimic himself a few years prior. “‘No, mom. I wanna marry a boy.’” He smiles at Wonwoo, then his mother. “And I remember what she said to me. She said, ‘If that’s what you want, there’s nothing wrong with that.’”

 **“Awwwww,”** Mingyu hears Wonwoo squeal.  **“I wish I knew you guys back then.”**

Nana places a hand over her chest. “I’m just touched I was the first one he told,” she gloats.

“Well actually,” Mingyu raises a hand sheepishly. “Minghao actually has you beat on that one, Mom.”

She sighs. “Figures. You do spend an awful amount of time with him.”

Mingyu’s father comes in the back door carrying a plate of burgers, fresh off the grill. “Hope you’re hungry!” He grins at the boys. Wonwoo stands, attempting to formally greet Mingyu’s father.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” he gives a half bow. “I’m Wonwoo.”

He laughs, setting the plate on the table. “I know,” his face brightens. “And Mr. Kim was my father’s name. Just call me Jonghyun.”

Wonwoo’s shoulders relax a bit. “Nice to meet you.” Then, catching Mingyu’s eye, he thinks, **“You’re parents are awesome. I see where you get it from.”** They share a clandestine smile.

“Go get your sister, Mingyu,” Jonghyun says, grabbing some plates out of a cupboard. Wonwoo jumps to his feet, ready to come to the man’s aid.

“I can set the table!” He says, beginning to place the plates at each seat.

Jonghyun looks at his son, “I like this one. He’s a keeper,” he jokes.

They all laugh.

 

After dinner, Wonwoo does the dishes with Mingyu’s mother. Mingyu is supposed to be helping Minseo with her math homework, but he overhears their conversation and gets captivated.

“... your power?” He hears his mother ask. “It’s not obvious, like Minghao’s. You also don’t seem to use it often.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo mumbles. To Mingyu’s surprise, the boy doesn’t get defensive or sad. “When I sing, people fall asleep. It’s not exactly practical.”

Nana dries the last dish. “Maybe not yet,” she says. “But I believe that we’re given specific powers for a reason. Like some kind of destiny,” she stops talking for a few moments, so all that Mingyu can hear is the light splashing of the dish water. “Someday, your lullaby will come in handy. You’ll find your reason.”

Wonwoo nods. **“I feel a lot better.”** Mingyu hears. “I can’t tell if you’re using your power on me or not,” he says, the smile evident in his voice.

Nana chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t use my power as much anymore.”

“Why?”

She finishes drying the last dish. “My reasons for using it were more prominent earlier in life.” Wonwoo leans against the counter as she drains the sink. “And I had a really bad experience with it. Jonghyun and I had issues because of it.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” Wonwoo inquires.

Mingyu cups around his ear, trying to hear more. His mother _never_ talks about this. With _anyone_. Now, however, he can hear her preparing to tell her story. “It began when Jonghyun and I—” a deafening sound cuts her off.

The garbage disposal roars, drowning out her story. Mingyu sighs and slinks back to Minseo’s room. _At least they’re hitting it off,_ he cracks a small smile.

 

When Wonwoo is finally ready to go home, Mingyu’s family _insists_ that Mingyu walks with him. Not that Mingyu’s complaining: he would have walked Wonwoo home anyway.

They watch the sunset as they wander down Mingyu’s street, hand in hand. Wonwoo sighs wordlessly. **“That went well. I really like your family.”**

“They like you, too,” Mingyu responds, leaning into his boyfriend. “How can they not?”

“Awe, shut up,” Wonwoo blushes, leaning weakly back. “I seriously love your mom.”

“Me too,” Mingyu laughs. They turn down Main Street. The trees lining the road are in bloom. As the sun hits the horizon, it bathes the world in hues of pink and orange. Wonwoo looks like he’s made of honey, with rose-colored lips like flower petals. Mingyu gazes at him as they walk down the empty road. Everything is so filled with light and love and warmth. “She’s not the only one I love…” He’s uncharacteristically quiet.

Wonwoo stops walking underneath one of the trees. **“Me?”**

Mingyu nods.

Wonwoo kisses him.

**“I love you, too.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there guys!! sorry if this chapter seems like Wonwoo and Mingyu are rushing things, but I decided to skip forward in time a bit (for context, the last chapter where meanie was the focus took place in February ish... so they've been dating for a bit longer than it seems). 
> 
> by the way, just in case you're wondering, they are located somewhere with a climate similar to new england (where I'm from). *shrugs* I write what I know, I guess. also, one quick note: kim jonghyun is JR from nu'est. not shinee jonghyun. even tho I love him too.
> 
> And WHO'S READY FOR THE COMEBACK!!!!!! I'M NOT READY, THAT'S FOR SURE, ZOO WEE MAMAAAA !!!!! 
> 
> ANYWAY thanks for all your support! I'm happy you guys are enduring the irrelevant intermissions of other couples because I enjoy writing them!! thank you all for leaving kudos and comments, and most of all, thank you for reading!! my twitter is @acceptuality if u wanna talk to me, go ahead! :) 
> 
> ps. bae sungyeon's birthday is on may 25th. i love her. that is all.


	13. déjà vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what would graduation be without a few bumps in the road?

As the final month of school counted down, time seemed to tick a bit more quickly. The air was buzzing with anticipation of summer— everyone, from freshmen to faculty, believed that vacation could not come fast enough. Perhaps the seniors were the most excited. Most of them, that is.

Not Jeonghan. He is certifiably _not_ excited.

So, when Mingyu receives a panicked call the morning of graduation, he finds himself jogging to Jeonghan’s house. The older boy babbled something like _'_ _Josh is so stupid'_ and hung up in a frenzy. It doesn’t take much to rile up Jeonghan, though: maybe if it were Josh giving Mingyu a call, he’d be sprinting. Don’t misunderstand: Jeonghan is known for his suave demeanor. He doesn’t like coming off as uncouth or scatterbrained, but secretly, he’s a bundle of nerves 90% of the time.

Mingyu’s not surprised to find Jeonghan’s kitchen filled with boys: Soonyoung, Seokmin, Junhui, Minghao, Joshua, and Wonwoo are all gathered around the blubbering boy. He’s not crying (that’s a good sign), but he looks damn-well near tears. Josh rubs soothing circles in his boyfriend’s back, whispering kind words with his lips and screaming kind words with his heart.

Moving towards the table that they are all hovering around, Mingyu draws the attention of everyone but Joshua and Jeonghan. “Sup,” Minghao says, nodding his head. Mingyu nods back.

 **“I’m glad you’re here,”** Mingyu hears. He turns toward the voice, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes temporarily. Wonwoo tears his eyes, hiding behind wire-framed glasses, away from Mingyu.

The tallest boy in the room glides over to Wonwoo gracefully (which is a feat in and of itself, considering it’s _Mingyu_ ). He wraps his arms around his boyfriend, resting his chin on Wonwoo’s shoulder and staring at Jeonghan and Josh. “You read my mind,” Wonwoo hums, just soft enough for Mingyu to hear.

“Didn’t have to,” Mingyu mumbles, squeezing Wonwoo a little tighter. **“I love you,”** Mingyu hears. His heart quickens at that.

After a few moments of awkward, nerve-steeped silence, a voice pipes up. “Okay, so I’m just gonna say what everyone else is thinking,” Soonyoung says. His voice comes out a little louder than he intended, making everyone jump. “What are we doing here?”

Jeonghan stares at the blonde superhuman, moon-eyed. “I… I…” he stammers, a lump catching in his throat.  **“I’ve got to do _something_ ,”** Mingyu hears radiate faintly off of Joshua.

Raising his voice, Joshua cuts Jeonghan off. “Graduation is in a few hours, as you all know,” he removes his hand from Jeonghan’s shoulder, gesturing to the boys around him. “And Yuha decided to use Hannie’s cap as a toy.” Jeonghan’s cat is usually well-behaved, but she goes apeshit if she finds something shiny. It didn’t help that Jeonghan’s cap was the shiniest thing on the goddamn planet.

As a tradition, high school seniors were given their graduation caps a few months in advance to decorate. They could put whatever they like on them— most kids copied and pasted memes, but not Jeonghan. In big, bold letters, he had bedazzled ‘Oh yes, I’m that diamond’ using hundreds of rhinestones. Then, to top it off, he had doodled several little diamonds using glitter glue.

Seokmin makes a small noise of surprise. “Fuck,” he whispers. Jeonghan’s eyes fall back to his lap, where his hands seem to be folded beneath the table. Slowly, he lifts the torn cap from off his lap and places it on the table.

Several groans escape the boys. “Now,” Joshua says cooly, “I have a plan.”

The room falls silent as everyone waits with bated breath. Joshua’s voice always gets soft and unusually smooth when he is about to use his power. “Jeonghan knows the plan. He has called you here because it was a difficult decision, and he doesn’t want to be alone.”

Wonwoo whips his head around in confusion. “Jesus Christ, why is everyone acting like someone died?” Wonwoo hasn’t been a part of the gang for long, so he is unaware of Joshua’s power.

Minghao speaks up, trying (but failing) to keep his voice light and airy. Even though his face looks effortless and vaguely happy, his wings are drooping— a tell-tale sign that things are not hunky dory. “Josh can travel back in time.”

Wonwoo’s hands fly up to his mouth as he gasps. “That’s so cool!” He exclaims. A few of the boys around him offer weak smiles, but otherwise, the room still has the atmosphere of a funeral. “Right?” Wonwoo adds, puzzled.

“Yes,” Josh says, his voice flowing smoothly like honey. “It’s very cool.” He turns to Jeonghan, staring deeply into his eyes. “And easy.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” Wonwoo says, his voice a jarring juxtaposition to Joshua’s.

Junhui opens his mouth, talking slowly. “It’s not exactly safe. If any human sees him when he goes back in time, he risks losing his power altogether.”

“Oh my god,” Wonwoo’s voice lulls a little bit, realizing the weight of Joshua’s ‘plan’. “How do you know that?”

Before anyone else can respond, Joshua’s voice comes out, fainter than before. “It’s hereditary. The first born is always a time traveler.” He takes a few deep breathes and closes his eyes. Joshua’s voice is seeming farther and farther away with each word. “If the first born is a girl, she can move forward in time, and if it’s a boy, he can move backward.”

Joshua’s skin is slowly losing color… and opacity. “Oh my god.” Jeonghan bows his head slightly, trying to ignore his disappearing boyfriend. Everyone watches as Josh plants one last kiss on Jeonghan’s head. Whispering **“I love you,”** with all of his heart, Mingyu watches him fade away.

After a few seconds of eerie silence, during which no breaths are taken, a noise filters into the kitchen. It sounds like a door being opened. Jeonghan gasps, scrambling out of his seat.  **“He’s back!”** Mingyu hears, exhaling a large breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Mingyu can hear Josh before he sees him. **“Oh my word, am I glad to see you.”** The couple are in the hallway, out of eyeshot  _and_ earshot, but Mingyu can feel their thoughts. Josh's feelings echo Jeonghan's unknowingly, and vice versa.

“How long did it take?” Jeonghan asks, just loud enough for it to drift into the kitchen.

Joshua makes a muffled sound of indifference. “Not long. Maybe a few hours.” They re-enter the kitchen hand-in-hand. “I moved your cap to the top shelf in your closet. Why don’t you go get it; we have a graduation to get to.”

The smile that breaks across Jeonghan’s face is wide enough that it makes his eyes turn into crescents. He’s getting emotional again.. “Okay,” says the oldest boy, his voice raspy and thick with tears that threaten to spill over.

Wonwoo, having never ‘experienced’ Joshua’s power before, is alight with questions. “Okay… but what the fuck just happened?” Mingyu shifts, tugging on Wonwoo’s arm until they are linking hands.  _This might take a while, might as well be comfortable,_ Mingyu thinks.

Joshua smiles. “Like I said, I am a time-traveler,” he lets out a little chuckle, shrugging nonchalantly. “Only backwards, though.”

Wonwoo stares at him for a second, using his facial expression to coax an elaboration out of Josh. The older boy, however, doesn’t catch on, forcing Wonwoo to speak. “Please continue.”

Blinking, Joshua says, “Oh right! You didn’t know!” He sticks a finger up in the air, as if to say ‘ah-ha!’. “Well, it’s a hereditary power. Those exist, you know, but they’re very rare. Just like double-powers or being born power-less: they exist, but are extremely uncommon.”

“Wait,” Mingyu interjects, making Wonwoo jump. “I thought double-powers were just a thing Hao made up to mess with me.”

“Me too,” Minghao mumbles.

“Nope,” Junhui adds, shifting his tone to an authoritative and scholarly one. “I learned about it in Supernatural History. Usually, double-powerful individuals, or ‘dubs’ as they are colloquially called, accumulate their second power later in life. Many people believe that it’s ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’--- that the power shows up when the person needs it the most— but I just think it’s luck.”

Everyone in the room, including Josh, nods in awe. “Dude, you sound like a textbook,” Soonyoung says, breaking the silence.

“Anyway,” Wonwoo says, diverting his attention back to Joshua, “You said that it was dangerous? That you could lose your power?”

“Yep,” Joshua says, once again trying to maintain a calm tone. Beneath the facade of nonchalance, there is a very real sobriety lurking in Josh’s voice. “My great-grandfather lost his power for good when his sister saw him. If someone sees you while you’re in the wrong place regarding space-time, it messes up the whole magical element in our blood.” He pauses, the corner of his lip turning up. “I dunno why. Rumor has it that I could also cease to exist altogether.” He shrugs. “Who knows.”

“Even still,” Wonwoo continues, brimming with curiosity. “That’s super duper cool.”

“Thank you,” Josh says. Mingyu hears his heart echo the same words. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Another question,” Wonwoo adds abruptly. “How long does it take? And what does it feel like?”

“That was two questions,” Soonyoung chimes in. Wonwoo glares, sticking out his tongue at the blonde superhuman.

“Depends,” Joshua continues, unabashed. “However long it takes to do whatever I went back to do.” He stops, thinking before proceeding. “Being in the past feels weird and tingly. Kind of like when your foot begins to regain feeling after falling asleep. And the process of appearing and reappearing feels kind of like being underwater— if air gave the same effect. Like,” he makes grabbing motions with his hands, trying to find the right words. “Everything is muffled and faint, but not cold and wet and suffocating like water. It’s like drowning in air.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo breathes. “What do you  _do_? When you go back, I mean.”

Joshua shrugs. “Listen to conversations I missed out on. Enjoy beautiful days that I was ill for. Move things, like in this case. I moved Jeonghan’s cap to a place Yuha couldn’t reach it. And don’t tell Hannie but,” Joshua lowers his voice, looking to the stairwell. “Sometimes I go back in time to watch episodes of anime that I missed.”

Wonwoo lowers his voice, mimicking the older boy. “Why shouldn’t we tell Jeonghan?”

“Are you kidding? He _hates_ it when I travel backwards, even when I must. He thinks it’s dangerous,” Joshua looks back at the stairwell, “And I suppose he’s right.”

“Then why go back in time for his graduation cap? Couldn’t he have just worn one of the extra standard ones?” Wonwoo finally asks the question that has been tugging at Mingyu’s mind since they were called over. Nothing about the situation was dire— so why risk it?

Mingyu sees a picture of Jeonghan flash in Joshua’s mind. **“Because I love him. It’s his special day. I want him to have the best time. He worked so hard and he was so proud of it. I know he’d never ask me to go. I’ve traveled back plenty of times, so it’s not too difficult.”**  His reasons for going back in time display themselves to Mingyu like bullet points. All Joshua says, however, is, “It’s not too hard to go back and change things. Really. It’s no big deal.”

Jeonghan walks into the room. “Ready to go?” His cap catches the light perfectly as he makes eye contact with his boyfriend.

 **“Anywhere with you,”** Mingyu hears. “Yep,” Joshua says.

All of the boys pile into Jeonghan’s van and head to the venue. They enjoy the ceremony, except for the few times Wonwoo dozes off during the Valedictory speech. _It just takes so long!_ Wonwoo complains to Mingyu afterwards.

Seungkwan and Hansol show up a few names into the Presentation of the Degrees. The group of boys— Wonwoo, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Hansol, Minghao, Junhui, Seokmin, and Soonyoung— all clap wildly when the principal announces “Joshua Hong.” A proud Joshua accepts his degree, shakes the man’s hand, and smiles at his friends. Jeonghan is the last graduate to be announced, having the last name Yoon.

The senior song plays. Wonwoo leans into Mingyu. “It’s called ‘Smile Flower’,” he says. Mingyu pulls Wonwoo a little closer. The newly-graduated students begin their recession out of the venue.

Each of the eight boys promised themselves that they wouldn’t cry. Luckily, some promises are meant to be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short, but I wrote most of it during finals week (i'm awful hahah)
> 
> SCHOOL'S OUT THO but i am going to a 5 week advanced studies thingy--- essentially school in the summer--- so my posting is still gonna be irregular as fuck. i have many many plans for upcoming chapters, and even for the end. there's still A LOT left to get through so hang in there!
> 
> i changed my twitter to @baebysungyeon because *SHOCKER* i'm absolute pristin trash ahhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> hope you guys are having a great start of summer and end of the school year--- or if you still have school, i hope you still have fun! thank you for all your positive comments and kudos! love y'all! 
> 
> ps. lemme know if anything is confusing. i think this made more sense in my head.


	14. waffle hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New friendship gives birth to things unexpected.

 

For some reason, Mingyu had suspected that his friend circle would lose two people after graduation. He’d thought that Jeonghan and Joshua would be too busy preparing for college— for adulthood, anyway— to spend time with measly high schoolers.

To his surprise, Mingyu’s friend circle didn’t lose any people. It actually _grew_.

It started by accident. Every few days, the boys would gather at _someone’s_ house— usually Jeonghan’s or Mingyu’s or Hansol’s— to play video games until 3 in the morning and eat shitty fast-food.

Two Saturdays have passed since Joshua and Jeonghan graduated. Mingyu walks by himself for a few blocks before his path crosses with Seokmin’s. The happy-virus gives a little wave, smiling wide enough to turn his eyes into crescents. “How’s it crack-a-lackin’, Cupid?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t bother fighting the tin smile creeping its way up his lips. “Don’t you  _drive_?” Mingyu snaps.

“Gas is expensive,” Seokmin shrugs, walking in step with the taller boy. “I don’t live that far away, anyway.”

“Fair enough,” Mingyu says. After a few seconds of walking in silence (and subsequent thinking), he decides to bring up something he hasn’t talked about with Seokmin in a month or two. “So how are things…” He’s apprehensive at first, almost uncertain whether he should finish his thought or not. He decides on the former. “... with Soonyoung?”

 **“Soonyoung…”** A voice sings within Seokmin. “If you’re asking if I’ve confessed yet, the answer is ‘no’.”

“Why not?” Mingyu asks before he can stop himself. “I mean, you don’t have to answer that.”

But it’s too late. Since turning 15, Mingyu has realized that people’s minds move faster than their mouths do. Before a question is finished being posed, someone is already answering it.  **“He doesn’t like me that way.”**

“What do mean? Of course he does,” Mingyu responds to Seokmin’s silent words. “I can hear him, for Christ’s sake.”

Seokmin side-eyes him. “I’m content this way,” he says, faking a smile. **“At least, I _was_ content this way.”**

“Bullshit,” Mingyu walks in front of Seokmin as they walk the narrow path to Jeonghan’s front door. Mrs. Yoon gets a little uptight about her grass being walked on, so the boys stick to the brick path laid out before them.

“Okay, so what?” Seokmin rings the doorbell, trying to stifle his embarrassment. He is a bright shade of crimson. “It’s okay. Having a crush on my best friend is, like, no biggie. It’s normal… it’ll pass.”

Mingyu opens the door before anyone answers it. “Why’d you ring the doorbell? We’ve been over four times this week _alone_.”

“Distracted, I guess,” Seokmin avoids Mingyu’s eyes. The house always seems empty when they arrive. Everyone is just piled into the basement.

Mingyu takes this opportunity to tease Seokmin. “Distracted by _Soonyoung_ ,” he says, making kissy noises. “Seokmin and Soonyoung sitting in a tree…”

The picture in Seokmin’s mind is an array of colors and pictures of the superhuman. “Stop it!” Seokmin yells, smiling bashfully and blushing. Mingyu thinks it’s amusing to talk about what other people love. It’s fun to watch their thoughts go wild.

“K-I-S-S-I—” Mingyu’s voice cuts off as the pair rounds the corner. Standing in the hallway a few feet away from them is a boy holding a glass of grape soda.

 **“Soonyoung,”** Seokmin’s heart breathes. The blonde boy stares, wide-eyed and mouth agape, at his best friend. He’s heard  _everything_.

There is an agonizing second when Mingyu believes he has royally  _fucked up_.

 **“Seokmin,”** Soonyoung responds with his heart. It’s actually uncanny how similar the voices sound.

“Guys,” Mingyu lets out a relieved sigh, trying to keep his voice gentle. “ I know feelings are serious, and you two don’t ‘do’ serious, but like,” Mingyu gestures to the two of them. “You two are perfect for each other.” He shifts a hand to his chest, trying to lighten the mood. “Think about how frustrating this is from  _my_ perspective.”

Seokmin and Soonyoung have not stopped staring at each other. Mingyu’s pretty sure they haven’t even blinked since entering the hallway.

“Did you hear  _all_ of that?” Seokmin’s voice is unnaturally soft.

After a pregnant silence, Soonyoung answers. “Yeah,” his voice is equally as soft.

Seokmin finally drops his eyes to the floor, flushing an even deeper shade of red. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Even without being especially perceptive of romance and love, Mingyu can hear Seokmin’s heart threaten to beat out of his chest.

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung keeps his eyes locked on the happy virus. **“Really. I don’t want to care, but I do. I don’t know how to acknowledge feelings… ”** His heart trails off and Mingyu rolls his eyes.

“I’m just gonna head downstairs,” Mingyu points to the basement door with his right hand, and rubs the back of his neck with his left.

Seokmin pleads with his eyes. **“Wait… I don’t know what to do without you telling me how to feel.”**

“C’mon,” Mingyu whines lightly. “I can _hear_ feelings, not _control_ them.”

There’s an earsplitting crash. Seokmin and Mingyu snap their necks to look at the glass of grape soda that Soonyoung dropped on the floor. “Wh-what?” He stammers, his voice cracking.

“Oh,” Mingyu makes a noise of surprise. He forgot that Soonyoung isn’t aware that Mingyu’s been lying about his power. “About that… I can explain—”

Soonyoung cuts him off, taking in a sharp breath. “I have feelings for you, Dokyeom. I don’t want to, but I do.” The words slur, spilling out of him like a flash-flood of emotions. He closes his eyes tight, as if he’s bracing himself for something. “I think you’re funny and shit. Plus you’re hot as hell.” Mingyu stares at the blonde boy incredulously. Soonyoung shrugs, “I mean, if Mingyu can read all these things anyway, what’s the difference. Cat’s out of the bag.”

Seokmin blushes even _more_ deeply. **“This is what I’ve been waiting for.”** He just stares back at Soonyoung, unmoving, in a state of shock.

 **“Did I say something wrong? Oh fuck, why isn’t he reacting… is he okay?”** Soonyoung’s eyes dart back and forth between Mingyu and Seokmin.

A small smile crawls onto Seokmin’s face. “Ditto,” his voice is shaky and quiet, yet thick with love. He holds up finger guns and musters a wink.

Mingyu fights the urge to roll his eyes. _This is supposed to be a heartfelt moment,_ he tells himself. When Soonyoung reciprocates the awkward finger guns, however, Mingyu opens the door to the basement. The cringe is too much for him.

Mingyu can hear Soonyoung’s thoughts from halfway down the stairs. **“So _t_ _his_ is what kissing sober feels like.”** It’s funny; Soonyoung remembered all along. He just didn’t want to deal with his feelings.

Mingyu grins to himself, glad to have a happy ending to this ordeal. He finds satisfaction in watching someone’s destiny play out. And Soonyoung and Seokmin are destined for one another— they just needed a push in the right direction.

“Hey guys, what’d I miss?” Mingyu says, barging in on a group of boys huddled on the floor. In the center of their tiny circle is a pile of playing cards. Minghao waves halfheartedly as he contemplates his next move.

“We’re in the middle of something,” Seungkwan pipes up. His legs are intertwined with Hansol’s as they share their hand of cards.

“I can see that,” Mingyu laughs at the two boys, attached at the hips. “Sorry for interrupting.”

Jeonghan takes cards very seriously. _It takes a lot of concentration to cheat,_ he always says. He glares at Mingyu’s shins before exhaling loudly. “For goodness sake, take a fucking seat, Gyu. You’re setting me on edge.”

Joshua rubs Jeonghan’s shoulder and the shapeshifter noticeably relaxes. As Mingyu sits in the middle of the cream colored couch, the fabric dipping with his weight, his eyes fall on the stranger in the group. A boy— no, not a boy; a  _man_ — with a strong bone structure, dark hair slicked back, and a broad chest is seated between Josh and Jun. His thick red lips contrast with his unnaturally pale skin. _Seriously,_ Mingyu thinks, _he needs some vitamin D or something._

The man looks up from his hand of cards to meet Mingyu’s eyes. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, crawling to his feet. He shifts his cards to his left hand so he can properly extend his right. “I’m Seungcheol.”

Despite being a rising high school junior, Mingyu returns the formal gesture. He feels small in comparison to Seungcheol, even though he towers over him. “Mingyu.” He smiles, feeling almost like an adult.

“Excellent to meet you,” the older boy says, returning to his place on the floor.

Mingyu sits on the couch, vaguely paying attention to the others’ laughter. “You guys all suck,” Minghao yells, throwing down his cards, and effectively winning the game.

Jun pulls the winged boy closer, wrapping him in his arms. “That’s only because you're unnaturally good at it, babes.” Minghao’s heart does something that Mingyu can only describe as blushing— a feeling that is mimicked by the newcomer.

Seungcheol averts his eyes from Jun and Minghao, who share a quick peck. **“Dammit,”** a voice comes from Seungcheol’s heart as he rouges.

 _Oh fuck, this isn’t good,_ Mingyu thinks. Junhui’s glamour is strong, especially on people who haven’t been exposed to him for a while. Hell, _Mingyu_ sometimes feels its pull— and he’s ass-over-tits in love with sweater-paws boy.

Speaking of which, where is Wonwoo? Mingyu takes out his phone, texting his boyfriend.  _When are you getting here?_

Hansol pulls Mingyu’s focus away from the screen, where some typing bubbles were popping up. “Where’s Soonyoung with the soda, Jesus,” Hansol says, shuffling away from Seungkwan and up the stairs.

_here_

Wonwoo saunters through the French doors, adorned in a thin sweater and tan shorts. “How are you wearing that in this heat?” Jeonghan asks. “Do you even sweat?”

Wonwoo shoves Jeonghan with his knee as he crosses the room, plopping himself next to Mingyu. Their legs touch as his weight makes a divet in the couch, and Mingyu is surprised by the cool skin which meets his own.

Wonwoo leans in, making Mingyu’s heart flutter. “Who’s that?” he whispers, gesturing secretly to Seungcheol. His breath smells like mint.

“Seungcheol,” Mingyu inclines his head to Wonwoo’s ear this time. “Han and Josh’s friend, I think.”

“Mmm,” Wonwoo nods to himself. “I think I recognize him, but I don’t know why.”

“Jeonghan likes to shapeshift as him sometimes,” Mingyu recalls. “He like’s Seungcheol’s power.”

Wonwoo gasps, raising an eyebrow. “Wait,” he holds up his hands. “Jeonghan gains people’s abilities when he shapeshifts.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “No no no, not unless it’s topical,” he corrects. “He wouldn’t gain a power like yours or mine from shapeshifting into us.”

Wonwoo visibly deflates in relief. “So what’s  _that_ guy’s power?” He juts his chin out in Seungcheol’s direction.

“He’s indestructible.” Mingyu says, beginning to talk with his hands. It’s a habit he’s acquired from his very emphatic boyfriend. “Everyone knows it— he can turn into a kind of living stone thing. He’s like, really fucking strong and stuff.”

“Should I be afraid of him?” Wonwoo laughs, looking at the clueless man clutching cards on the floor.

“No,” Mingyu draw out the syllable, fumbling for Wonwoo’s hand. Their fingers intertwine.

( _I like to call this waffle hands,_ Wonwoo said, breaking the silence. They had been walking for a while through Pledis Park, exploring places neither of them had gone, for a few hours. Having no school to occupy their time, the budding boyfriends spent nearly every day going on dates and spending time with their friends.

The peach trees were in full bloom with fruit. Wonwoo reached up with his free hand to pick a low-hanging piece.  _What?_

 _Waffle hands,_ Wonwoo said, his mouth full of the peach's flesh. Juice dribbled down his chin, which Mingyu used his thumb to wipe away.

 _You’re such a child,_ Mingyu admired Wonwoo, eating sloppily and rosy-cheeked from the sun. The shorter boy grinned, dragging Mingyu to a nearby tree stump to sit.  _ **“But you love me.”**_

 _Yeah,_ Mingyu tenderly placed a kiss on Wonwoo’s temple. Pouting, Wonwoo whined and closed his eyes, demanding another kiss. Happy to oblige, Mingyu moved closer.

Kisses never tasted quite so sweet. Everything was warm: the sun, the ground, Mingyu, Wonwoo. Not to mention, the blend of Wonwoo and peach juice was intoxicating. Pulling away from Wonwoo’s mouth, Mingyu asked, _What are waffle hands?_

 _This,_ Wonwoo pulled at their hands, intertwined. _See? Like a waffle— the way they fit together._ Their fingers weaved through one another’s. Mingyu’s heart brimmed with love, watching the purity and childlike innocence in Wonwoo’s face.

Overcome with affection, Mingyu swooped in for another kiss. One kiss became a thousand— and, feeling like slow motion, the day drew to a close.)

Time passed quickly, eaten up by bickering boys and cards. Soonyoung and Seokmin sat awkwardly next to one another, Seokmin’s hand placed gently on the other’s. “It’s about time!” Seungkwan screams, watching the two best friends blush. “You have no idea how hard clairvoyance is!”

“Wait, you knew about this?” Jun asks. Seungcheol smiles shyly at Jun when the Chinese boy speaks.

“Only for the last half an hour…” Seungkwan starts, “but still!”

Junhui rolls his eyes. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Hansol gasps, clutching Seungkwan close to his chest. “How dare you!” he says, covering Seungkwan’s ears with his palms in over-exaggerated defense. Seungkwan pretends to be hurt, but as soon as his ears are safely covered and his eyes are closed, Hansol nods in agreement with Jun’s comment.

The room erupts in laughter. “What’s so funny?” Seungkwan asks, turning to Hansol.

“Nothing,” Hansol says, quickly shutting up Seungkwan with a kiss.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you, but we’re gonna have to cut things off early tonight,” Jeonghan interjects. “My mom has some extended family coming over at around 8, and she thinks we’re too rowdy.”

“Us? Rowdy? In what world?” Minghao acts surprised, as the rest of the room laughs. **“He even looks hot when he laughs.”** Seungcheol thinks, his eyes locked on Junhui. The latter curls into Minghao’s embrace.

“I have to leave early anyway,” Mingyu chimes. “My mom’s been begging me to apply for a job for, like, a year now.” Mingyu sighs, “And I’m finally gonna do it.”

Wonwoo squeezes Mingyu’s as the rest of the room bursts into deafening noise. The soft ‘waffle hands’ that they share fill Mingyu with more validation than a stadium full of applause.

 

Flopping onto his bed after a long day of applying to various jobs— cashiers, stock boys, help desk employees, and the like— Mingyu pulls out his phone.

The time reads 11:11. _Make a wish,_ he thinks to himself.

Before he can, however, a text violates his screen. _I’m coming in. I need you right now._

It’s from Minghao.

A soft knock comes from the wooden doorframe to his bedroom. “Come in?” Mingyu whispers, and the door cracks open.

His wings are drooping. Mingyu can feel the pain radiating off of Minghao’s heart— as if it’s been bruised. There’s a sore throbbing feeling bleeding off of Minghao and, thanks to Mingyu’s power, he can feel it too.

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. _Are you okay? Is this about Junhui? Did he hurt you? What happened?_ No question seems right. So, instead, Mingyu lifts his covers to invite Minghao into his bed.

The sad boy looks even more gaunt in this halflight, dim with sadness and cheeks wet with tears. He barely lifts his feet up off the floor, dragging himself to the edge of the bed. Before climbing into the bed beside Mingyu, he pulls off his shoes.

No speaking ensues. Mingyu simply wraps his arms around his best friend and, stroking his hair, allows him to sob into his shoulder. They can talk in the morning about what’s wrong— but Mingyu knows that isn’t what he needs right now. They used to do this when they were children. When Minghao bombed a test or had his heart broken or was scolded too harshly by his mother, he would come to Mingyu for love. For arms to hold him, for an ear to listen, for a brave face to tell him everything will be okay, for someone to understand.

It’s been years since Minghao had last come knocking on his door. Mingyu folds Minghao into his chest, trying to press comfort into the shaking boy’s limbs.

Mingyu’s brave face isn’t so brave anymore. Even though he’s gotten older, he has also softened. _Being an empath kinda sucks,_ Mingyu thinks amidst the fog of tears. Only it doesn’t. He knows it doesn’t suck— that he has learned and grown and fallen in love because of it. But right now, in this moment, the pain is too goddamn blinding. Minghao’s sadness washes over Mingyu in waves of despair.

He folds Minghao into his chest, partly because he knows Minghao responds well to physical affection, although he denies it, but mostly because he wants to maintain the unspoken promise between them. A shoulder to lean on, arms to hold him, ears to listen, and assurance.

Mingyu takes one last steady breath and, stroking Minghao’s hair, says, “Everything is going to be okay.”

Minghao cries. Mingyu cries harder. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry very little happened in this chapter!! the next chapter is gonna be angsty--- like, basically all angst... ps angst is not my thing but sometimes it's necessary to make the plot flow. 
> 
> don't worry though... SPOILER everything will be okay and SPOILER the fluffiest fluff comes after the next chapter so GET HYPED!
> 
> sorry i haven't been writing very much this summer... I've been at this advanced studies program place (basically school in the summer lol) for the past month, so i've been BEYOND busy... in fact, I should be writing an essay about how knowledge leads to sorrow but I DECIDED "NOPE, I'VE PUSHED MEANIE TO THE BACKBURNER FOR TOO LONG" so here I am!! 
> 
> Hang in there guys! If there's any issues with my writing--- I'm a bit out of practice, although I have been writing this for the past month on and off--- let me know!
> 
> ALSO i changed social media things; twitter is @baebysungyeon and tumblr is @hashtagwyd !!! if anyone wants to come say hi or tell me about ur day or literally anything, I don't bite!! hmu!! :)))
> 
> hmmmm... what else.... oh yeee I LOVE YALL ! thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and writing comments! seriously.... they make my day and encourage me to continue writing! have a nice day/night and (hopefully) i'll see u soon!


	15. romeo and romeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a hurricane comes a rainbow... and we all know what a rainbow represents.

The sun filters through Mingyu’s thin blinds, falling across his face to gently awaken him. His eyelids sharply flutter open, previously welded shut by dried tears. They hurt, sore from crying, but the soft lighting and view of his best friend asleep peacefully by his side help ease the pain.

Minghao’s back faces Mingyu, his hair matted and his wings poking out from beneath his muscle tank. Mingyu reaches out, pulling the smaller boy into him until they’re spooning. The winged boy sighs, greeting Mingyu with a vision of fluffy clouds and laughter. _He’s dreaming,_ thinks Mingyu. Thanks to his gift, Mingyu is able to watch Minghao’s dreams with tranquil contentedness.

Another voice faintly plays in the back of Mingyu’s mind, disrupting the already lovely thoughts he can hear. **“He’s gonna be so surprised! I hope I don’t wake him up… Nana said he’s always asleep at this hour in the summer…”** The all-too-familiar timbre of Wonwoo’s heart ricochets around Mingyu’s head— unfortunately, too late for Mingyu to shift into a less suspicious position.

 **“Mingyu… Mingyu… Mingyu… Ming—”** Wonwoo taps the door open, eyes falling upon Mingyu and Minghao. The two best friends have their limbs tangled around one another. Wonwoo’s face falls— Mingyu cannot hear his thoughts.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Mingyu tries to retract his hands from around Minghao, but the winged boy whines at the absence. In his sleep, Minghao rolls over and curls into Mingyu’s chest.

Wonwoo’s lips press into a tight line. His body goes rigid and his eyes glaze over. “Okay,” his voice has no joy, no childlike delight, no emotion, no _l_ _ove_.

“Trust me,” Mingyu doesn’t want to wake up his brokenhearted friend asleep in his arms. “Minghao just got lonely.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo backs up slowly, his hands balled in fists by his thighs.

“Listen,” Mingyu whispers, but it sounds like a scream. “Do you trust me?”

Wonwoo gives a single, curt nod, but there is no mental affirmation.

“Minghao was having a rough time with Jun,” Mingyu explains, watching Wonwoo’s reaction as he stands in the doorway. “He came to me for support. As a  _friend_.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo’s voice is steady, unmoving, cold, distant. After a few agonizing seconds of silence, Wonwoo speaks again. “I have to go.”

“Are you alright?” Mingyu asks, attempting to start a conversation. He doesn’t want Wonwoo to leave while upset.

The quiet boy tucks his hands into his short pockets, cracking a fake smile. Mingyu can see a tear despite Wonwoo’s seeming stoicism. “Never better.”

“I love you,” Mingyu tries.

Wonwoo grunts. He swivels on his heels, running out of Mingyu’s room. There are no thoughts in his heart— at least, none that Mingyu can hear.

It’s different from the way Minghao’s heart felt last night. Minghao’s heart was in pain, but Mingyu could hear it. He could hear all the suspicion, all the betrayal, all the heart _break_. But Wonwoo is silent. There’s nothing in his heart for Mingyu to hear. Mingyu just hopes the jealousy will blow over soon enough.

Minghao wakes up, his wings twitching as he comes-to. “Mornin’,” he says, flying out of Mingyu’s arms. He stretches while suspended in the air.

“Good morning,” Mingyu says, propping himself up on one elbow. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Hmmm…” Minghao thinks for a second, his heart immediately betraying him.  **“We could visit Junhui…”** A sharp stabbing pain interrupts his thought, making Mingyu wince.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” Mingyu suggests, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed.

Minghao crosses his arms. “Dude, it’s like eight a.m,” he slows the flapping of his wings. “I’m not even hungry.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “C’mon,” he grabs Minghao’s arm, dragging him out of the bedroom. “I’m buying.”

 

They stumble around town all morning, first eating extra large ice cream sundaes, then visiting the animal shelter so Minghao can pet all the dogs. “It’ll make you feel better… and it’ll clear your head.” He pushes the winged boy through the doors.

“I just wanna sleep,” Minghao whines, but his heart corrects him.  **“I want to reconcile with Junhui…”** His name is a cruel reminder of the envy brewing in Minghao’s stomach.

“You can sleep,” Mingyu says, pushing him harder. “After you pet some dogs.”

Mingyu can hear Minghao’s heart brighten. **“Awwwwww… look at the doggo!”** He scurries to a small pen of puppies, picking up what he deems the  **“cutest one”**. It’s tummy fits in Minghao’s palm, with it’s legs happily batting the air. The winged boy clutches the dog close to his face, it’s golden fur brushing against Minghao’s cheek. The puppy licks Minghao’s nose, yipping happily.

Mingyu leans against the counter, behind which a young girl is standing. He glances at her name tag, which reads 'Pinky'. “That’s a cool name,” Mingyu comments.

“Thanks,” she says, pulling her eyes away from the winged boy engulfed in puppies. “It’s a nickname actually.”

“Why don’t you go by your birth name?” He makes conversation. Her heart is grateful for the human interaction. **“Not many people come in anymore, and the ones that do don’t pay attention to me very much.”**

“It’s hard to pronounce,” she says. “Because it’s Chinese.” Mingyu stares at her expectantly, silently asking her to say her name. “Jieqiong.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” Mingyu says. “Do you like it? Like, more than ‘Pinky’?”

“Doesn’t really affect me,” she shrugs. “They’re both good. Sometimes, I go by Kyulkyung, too.” She chuckles. “I have so many names, it’s difficult to form an attachment to just one.”

Minghao giggles loudly, causing both Jieqiong and Mingyu to look at the boy. He’s flying around the pet store, holding a black lab out as the pup licks his arm.

“Your friend’s cute,” the employee notes. “He comes in a lot. I recognize him.”

“Yeah, he kinda loves animals. Especially dogs.” Mingyu nods. “We also have a friend who turned fifteen a few months ago who can talk to animals. You might see him hanging around here, too.”

“Oh, Hansol?” To Mingyu’s surprise, Jieqiong is already familiar with the younger boy. “Yeah, him and Seungkwan come by whenever an animal is aggressive or sick. It’s actually really cool to watch.”

“Really?” Mingyu raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Jieqiong begins using her hands to speak. “There was this one Pit Bull mix that was rescued from a severely abusive owner— his name was Rambo, but he goes by Bo now— who was really aggressive. He was raised to fight, so he would lash out a lot. We couldn’t even get near to him… that is, except for Hansol. He came in one day because he heard the barking.”

“Is Bo okay now?” Mingyu asks, leaning in closer to Jieqiong.

“Thanks to Hansol, yeah. He listened to the dog, offered advice, and built trust with him. Essentially, Hansol gave the dog anger management therapy. It was miraculous.” She smiles, looking at a spot on the floor. “Bo actually got adopted two weeks ago, but Hansol’s planning on visiting from time to time.”

“Holy shit, I had no idea,” Mingyu trails off. “So Hansol comes by often?”

“Yep,” she says. “He gives other dogs emotional therapy and assesses physical ailments. Imagine how easy diagnosis would be if you could just ask the animal what symptoms it has.”

“Damn, he should become a vet at that rate.”

“That’s what Seungkwan thinks, too,” Jieqiong looks over at Minghao, who’s approaching their conversation. “I’m a firm believer in incorporating your power into your profession.”

“Really?” Mingyu questions. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s _your_ power?”

She chuckles. “I’m a polyglot,” she smiles. “I woke up on the morning of my fifteenth birthday being able to fluently speak and understand every language.”

“All of them?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows, disbelieving.

She nods. “I’m at University now, but when I graduate, I want to teach. In the meantime, I subtitle Hollywood films and American television shows in other languages. I also subtitle Bollywood stuff, kdramas, anime, Spanish dramas, and anything else I feel like watching.”

“Wow, it seems like you have your life set,” Minghao says. “All I have are wings. What kind of career can I make of that?”

Jieqiong taps her chin as she thinks. “How fast and high can you fly?”

“I can fly more quickly than I can run… Maybe 30 miles per hour, max?” He skyrockets upward. “And I can fly as high as the atmosphere will allow.”

“Easy!” She exclaims. “You could be a bomb-ass delivery boy, an EMT, a lifeguard, or you could get those beautiful pan shots of landscapes and mountains and stuff. Take the Lord of the Rings, for instance; those opening shots of the mountains are integral to the film!”

“You’re, like, really smart,” Minghao says. “If I wasn’t gay, I’d be all over you.”

“Awe, you’re a cute kid,” Jieqiong retorts. “If  _I_ wasn’t gay, and you were a few years older, I’d be all over _you_.”

Minghao’s eyes widen slightly. “And the award for the best comeback goes to Jieqiong the polyglot,” Mingyu uses his best sports-presenter voice.

“We’d better get going.” Minghao says. “But I’m gonna come back,” he points to Jieqiong. “You’re cool…” His eyes flit to her name tag and back to her eyes. “... Pinky.”

 **“You’re cool, too, Minghao.”** “Take care, boys.”

 

The sun crawls beneath the sky as the two boys sit on a bench by the duck pond. They share a giant basket of french fries as they watch the sunset. After minutes of silent chewing, Mingyu talks. “Wonwoo’s mad at me.”

Minghao cracks a smile, joking. “What’d you do this time, Cupid?”

Mingyu tries to shove Minghao, he really tries, but can’t bring himself to. His arms are too heavy and the sliver of a smile he plasters on his face is as much joy as he can muster. “Really.”

Minghao’s smile drops. “Shit, why?”

“He saw us this morning,” Mingyu’s eyes drop to his feet. “He assumed the worst.”

“You don’t know that,” Minghao touches his best friend’s shoulder. “He probably just wanted to give you privacy.”

Mingyu mumbles, the tears in his eyes blurring the orange and pink of the skyline. “I can’t hear him.”

“What?”

He whips his head toward Minghao. “I couldn’t hear him. His heart. I couldn’t hear anything… no heartbreak, no love… nothing. Just… nothing.” He looks back at the sunset.

“Let’s go talk to him, then,” Minghao interjects after a few seconds. “This is just one big misunderstanding. I’m sure if we talk to him, you’ll be able to hear him again.”

“Okay,” Mingyu says, drawing out the syllable. “On one condition.”

“What?” Minghao’s eyes narrow.

“You talk to Jun, too,” the winged boy’s shoulders stiffen. “Fix whatever problems you guys have.”

“Not likely,” he glares at the increasingly-dark horizon. “I saw Seungcheol and him… kissing.”

Mingyu yells, causing a flock of ducks to flap their wings in a futile attempt at escape. “Fuck him! Fuck him for hurting you! Fuck him for being a two-timing asshat! Fuck him for leading you on and fuck him for being so goddamn irresistible! Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!”

“Calm down, I’m sure it’s also a misunderstanding,” Minghao lowers his voice, it wavering to indicate that he’s near tears.

Mingyu takes a deep breath. “Fuck him for having a glamour… for keeping me out of his head.”

 **“It’s okay, Mingyu.”** “It’s okay.”

Mingyu’s face softens, and his voice falls to meet Minghao’s. “I can’t protect you from him, you know,” he looks at his best friend desperately. “I can’t tell you if he’s lying. I’m sorry.”

Minghao takes Mingyu’s hand and gives it a little squeeze. “Now it’s my turn to comfort you.” They exchange smiles before Minghao flutters to his feet. “Now,” he pulls on Mingyu’s arm until they are face-to-face. “Let’s go get our boyfriends back.”

 

Mingyu puts his phone to his ear. “He’s not picking up,” his voice is anxiety ridden.

The two friends stand beneath a streetlamp, staring up at Wonwoo’s bedroom window. The street is barren, despite being a college town— the summer always renders Starship University empty.

“And he’s not answering your texts, right?” Minghao asks, having Mingyu confirm. “Alright, let’s do this old school.”

Minghao flies up to the window, pointing to ask if it’s Wonwoo’s. Mingyu nods.

(Last month, Mingyu’s parents had gotten into a huge fight. Although he knew that no relationship was perfect, he didn’t like witnessing his parents yell. Or cry. Or drink.

 _Gyu, go to your room,_ his mother used her power to pull him to his room. He felt the need to stay there, but after a while, the waves of anger and frustration emitting off his mother were too much for him. Thankfully, Minseo had spent the night with Minkyung.

He ran. He ran to his favorite person in the world— the person who could make him feel better regardless of the shit he was going through.

In the frenzy of anger and despair, Mingyu left his phone blasting music by his pillow. Mingyu was barefoot, with angry tears helplessly spilling down his face. It’s hard to be around a fight involving his mother; he feels it all against his will. Her emotions are difficult to control like that.

So, without a phone to text or call, and without shoes to protect his feet, Mingyu collected rocks from the ground. He found Wonwoo’s window by chance: he knew where his house was in relation to the rest of the building, so he picked the only window with a light still on at 2 in the morning.

He threw.  _tap… tap… tap…_

 ** _Could it be?_** Mingyu smiled, his heart swelling when he heard Wonwoo’s thoughts stir. He pulled back the blinds.

He was beautiful.

With round spectacles perched on his nose-bridge and too-long hair flopping into his eyes, Wonwoo looked incredibly _douce_. Gentle. Sweet. His pecs were entirely visible— the summer is hot in their town— and the moonlight illuminated his golden skin until it seemed to glow.

_**O blessed, blessed night! I am afraid, being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial.** _

Mingyu broke into a blinding grin as he gestures for Wonwoo to open the window. He sniffled as his boyfriend complied.  _Was that Shakespeare?_ He giggled.

Wonwoo blushed. _ **Yes.**_   _I’m coming to the door,_ he called.

Wonwoo led Mingyu silently up the steps to his loft. They slept next to one another.  _Do you think we’re like Romeo and Juliet?_ Wonwoo’s voice was heavy with sleep— quiet and gravelly.

 _N_ _ah, we’re Romeo and Romeo,_ Mingyu whispered pressing his forehead to Wonwoo’s. _In our story, instead of double suicide, there’s double superpowers._

Wonwoo kissed the corner of Mingyu’s mouth.  _I like the sound of that._ )

The winged friend taps lightly on the glass with his fist, then darts out of the window’s view. After a few seconds with no response, he knocks again, more loudly.

The lights flash on. “Here he comes,” Minghao flutters down to the ground by Mingyu.

Wonwoo peaks out of the blinds, then ducks behind them again. “Hey!” Mingyu shouts, not caring that it’s nine p.m. and people have to get up for work in the morning. “Wonwoo!”

The door to the building opens to reveal Wonwoo, who meets them in the street. As much as he focuses his energy, Mingyu can’t hear anything coming from his heart. It scares the living shit out of him. “Wonwoo,” his name tastes like a prayer on his lips. “Why don’t you trust me?”

Wonwoo becomes the boy he was almost a year ago, when the two of them met. He retreats in on himself, drowning in an oversized t-shirt and his eyes sinking further into his face. “I do trust you.” His voice falls flat, and if the silence is any indicator, he’s lying.

The tears prick at Mingyu’s eyes, a lump rising in his throat. He opens his mouth, as if to speak, but no noise comes out. Minghao jumps to the rescue. “Jun cheated on me.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo’s voice is surprisingly calm. Level. His eyes catch Mingyu’s. “That doesn’t give you an excuse to cheat on me.” His tone isn’t accusatory— it’s matter-of-fact. It’s final.

Mingyu starts to cry, which only makes Wonwoo furrow his brow. Now Mingyu looks even more guilty than he did to begin with. “He didn’t! I’ve known him my entire life,” Minghao exclaims. “We’re like brothers.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo doesn’t look away from Mingyu, who’s staring at the pavement. The tears don’t touch his cheeks; instead, they fall directly from his tear ducts to the ground.

“I love you,” Mingyu chokes out.

Silence. Nothing. “Okay,” Wonwoo says.

Their eyes meet. Their lips are closed; Wonwoo’s firm and Mingyu’s quivering. “Please… please believe me. I didn’t do anything. I love you. I love you. Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo’s mouth falls open. “You’ve gotta be kidding,” he softens. “Did you just…?”

“He’s not glaring. He’s not glaring. Did I say something? Is he making fun of me?” Mingyu’s thoughts run wild, completely unaware that there is someone else listening in.

Wonwoo’s eyes widen, and the corner of his lip twitches, threatening a smile. “Mingyu…”

He sniffles. “Does he believe me? Please, God, if you’re out there, make Wonwoo trust me again. I just… I love him. Please God. Please. Buddha? Zeus? Anyone?”

Wonwoo chokes on a chuckle. “You’re seriously praying to Zeus?”

Mingyu’s lips stop shaking, and his tears freeze in his sockets. “You heard that?”

 **“Yeah,”** a quiet voice responds. **“It feels so fucking weird.”**

“But you believe me? And I heard you again?”

Wonwoo nods. **“Being able to connect telepathically must mean _something_ ,”** he pauses, looking at Minghao. **“Unless you’ve done this before.”**

“Nope, this is new.” Mingyu laughs, his voice wet and thick with tears. “I wouldn’t date Hao if he were the last man on Earth. Seriously… it feels incestuous.”

 **“C’mere,”** he opens his arms to Mingyu, who shuffles into them.

“Is this permanent?” Mingyu looks into Wonwoo’s eyes. The shorter boy cups his face, wiping a tear with his thumb.

 **“You tell me,”** he smiles. **“It’s _your_ power.”**

“Did I miss something?” Minghao’s voice breaks the silence that the couple didn’t realize they were keeping.

“Let’s figure out what’s up with Jun,” Mingyu wipes his nose on his sleeve and pulls away from Wonwoo.

 **“You’re disgusting,”** Wonwoo says. **“But you look beautiful when you cry.”**

“Okay,” Minghao says slowly, confused by what just transpired in front of him.

**“You’d better not leave without giving me an effing goodbye kiss.”**

“Of course, Romeo.”

Kisses with Wonwoo are always lovely. Always soft and gentle and kind and steeped in love. When they finally part, Mingyu says, “I have to go.”

“Bye bye,” Wonwoo sings. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll text you or something.”

**“I like the sound of that.”**

Wonwoo skips back indoors, and the comfortable silence of the summer air is broken by Minghao’s phone.  _My neck, my back, lick my…_ “Holy shit, is Junhui’s ringtone Cupcakke’s Deepthroat?”

Minghao smiles sheepishly. “Maybe…” He picks up. “Uh-huh… I know… Me too… Okay… Be there in five… Bye.” He hangs up.

“Well?” Mingyu asks.

“He wants to talk to me. He says that Seungcheol kissed him and he needs to talk to me about something.”

“You see,” Mingyu wags a finger at his winged friend. “It’s probably not what it seems.”

Minghao shrugs. “These days, nothing is.”

They meet Junhui at Jeonghan’s house. In the basement, Seungcheol and Junhui are separated by Joshua and Jeonghan.

“Hey,” Minghao says, refusing to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Hao,” Jun says, crawling to his feet. “I have to tell you something.”

“Mmm.”

He takes a shaky breath. “My glamour has been a little more powerful lately, since I always wanna look my best for you.” He chews the inside of his mouth nervously. “Seungcheol kissed me. But,”

“I know. It’s okay. We can break up.” Minghao can’t meet Junhui’s eyes, not because he’s mad, but because it hurts. And it hurts Mingyu, too.

 **“No!”** Mingyu hears an unfamiliar heart. Jun breaks through his glamour for one moment, fights his power for Minghao’s trust. “I pushed him away immediately.”

 **“He did,”** Seungcheol looks, ashamed, at his palms.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui takes a step toward Minghao. The movement startles the latter, and he takes a step back. His eyes flick upwards, welling with tears. The pain is palpable, at least for Mingyu.

“He’s not lying, Hao,” Mingyu says. “I heard him.”

The pain in the Chinese boy’s face dissipates. “How?”

“Dunno,” Mingyu says, offering a gentle smile. “Love can do crazy things.”

Junhui sticks out a hand like a character from a shitty rom-com. Minghao takes it.

“Thank goodness  _that’s_ over,” Jeonghan rubs his hands together. “Who’s up for a game of cards?”

Seungcheol, Jun, and Minghao raise their hands in unison. “I gotta go to bed, actually,” Mingyu lies, climbing the stairs. “Today really tired me out.”

“Later,” Seungcheol’s half-paying-attention voice carries up the stairwell. So does a quiet,  **“thank you”** from his best friend.

Mingyu runs as fast as he can. As he gets closer, he recites what he wants to say.

“Wonwoo! Wonwoo!” He’s huffing and puffing, but his mental voice doesn’t need to catch his breath.

 **“Coming!”** A beautiful boy with wire-rimmed spectacles and no shirt comes to the window. **“What?”**

“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Wonwoo is the sun!”

Wonwoo’s heart laughs. **“Alright alright, Romeo. I’ll let you in.”**

He’s still shirtless when he comes to the door. Mingyu notices. “Damn, you look hot as fuck in this lighting.”

 **“Stop it,”** Wonwoo takes his hand. **“You’re making me blush.”**

“Rise up fair sun and kill the envious moon!” Mingyu breaks the silence, rushing to kiss Wonwoo’s temple as they walk up the stairs to the latter’s bedroom.

“Oh, shut up, Romeo,” Wonwoo pushes Mingyu onto the bed. “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Wonwoo shifts in Mingyu’s arms until the two of them are satisfied with the position. Cuddling with Wonwoo is a thousand times better than cuddling with Minghao. Minghao only cuddles when he’s stressed, whereas Wonwoo just loves to be cuddled by Mingyu.  
  
“I’m very much in love with you,” Wonwoo whispers.

“And I’m very _very_ much in love with you.”

Their lips touch, gently, against one another. Mingyu hears, **“Here’s to my love! O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.”**

Mingyu laughs into the other’s mouth. “Oh shut it, Romeo, you’re not dying.”

**“Yeah, I know, but it _is_ an iconic line.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this all today. And guess what---- IT'S NOT EVEN THAT ANGSTY GO ME!!! i'm so bad at drama, i literally only ever wanna write about meanie making out and holding hands and being in love. sue me. 
> 
> so basically, hao only saw the part where cheol kissed jun, not the part where seungcheol was shoved off. don't worry--- junhui would never hurt thugbaby hao!
> 
> and just clarification: now mingyu and wonwoo are telepathic because SURPRISE mingyu's power is a lot more powerful than he thought. all of mingyu's thoughts that he exchanges with wonwoo are underlined! he heard past junhui's glamour for a split second (even though that was partially attributed to jun, but whatever) AND NOW he and wonwoo have a special bond. more on that in the future!
> 
> OH and i referenced romeo and juliet a lot. like. A LOT. sorry,,, not sorry,,, i watched all 5 twilight films over the weekend, so this is soaked in melodrama. i cannot. omg i'm a mess. hahaha
> 
> this is the beginning of the end, guyss.... like, that was the last HUGE plot point... i have a bunch of stuff left to say, but nothing as heavy. also, there's gonna be a super cute epilogue that i've had planned since like the 4th chapter... so that's something to look forward to!
> 
> i was supposed to do chinese homework today.. rip. instead i wrote shitty meanie fanfiction omgggggg i'm so foolish. 
> 
> ANYWAY hope everyone's having a lovely day/night! thank you for all your support and the wonderful comments and kudos! They make my day! 
> 
> feel free to hit me up on twitter (@baebysungyeon) or tumblr (@hashtagwyd) !! WHO'S STOKED FOR THE PRISTIN COMEBACK GODDDDD I LOVE MY GIRLS SO. MUCH. after i finish this fic, expect some super super superrrrr gay pristin stuff!!! 
> 
> i love y'all!! take care!


	16. hot sand (intermission)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't spell 'change' without 'Chan'.

The first day of high school looms over Chan like a storm cloud threatening to pour. All of the hustle and bustle overwhelms the poor boy. One final week of freedom remains before he is confined to a school filled with magic. As a treat, his parents had taken him to the nearby beach to unwind. They drop him off in the tiny parking lot.

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” his mother says, rolling down the window. “Call us if you need us. Both of our phones are always on.” She looks at his father for confirmation, who flicks the button on the side of his phone from ‘silent’.

“I’m not a baby, Mom,” he huffs, though he cannot deny how high pitched his pre-pubescent voice is. His mother endearingly refers to Chan as a ‘late bloomer’. In spite, he slings his backpack over his shoulder as he turns away.

“I know, I know,” she puts both hands on the wheel. “Have fun, Dino!”

Before Chan can protest the childish nickname, her car rumbles away, kicking up a cloud of sandy dust.

He scours the beach for a few seconds, pulling the sunglasses he’d perched on his forehead during the drive. Plopping his stuff down somewhere near the ice cream stand, he sighs. He digs his toes into the sand, feeling the heat burn his worn soles.

 _It would’ve been more fun with Minkyung here,_ he thinks to himself. He’d asked his friend to come, but she was busy. Something about having ‘girl time’ with Minseo… Chan convinces himself he isn’t jealous.

He just always seems to be left out of everything.

Sighing, he flops on his back, not bothering to put down a proper towel. The boy rests a baseball cap on his face, effectively blocking out most of the light. _Maybe I’ll take a nap,_ he supposes.

As his eyes close, he thinks about his friends— about Minkyung, about Yewon, but mostly about Minseo. About her bright, toothy smile that captivates entire stadiums. About her slanted, soft smile she reserves just for Chan. About how her face looks when she runs— he’s been to a few of her track meets— glistening with sweat and contorted in concentration. About how badly he wants to confess. About how badly he doesn’t want to lose her altogether by getting rejected.

Chan’s father once gave him some advice regarding the matter. _Only lay your heart on the line when your desire for more outweighs the fear of less. Love like that cannot be beaten._

Maybe Chan’s love isn’t powerful enough.

He continues thinking. He thinks about how simple life is now, and how grateful he is for it. No powers. Every one of his friends hasn’t turned fifteen yet, which means his secret’s safe. After all, emotional perception kind of runs in Minseo’s blood. First her mother, and then her older brother, have gifts that could fuck up the relationship between Chan and Minseo.

( _You’ll never guess,_ Minseo spoke in between bites of apple. Chan, Minkyung, and Minseo were sprawled on the floor of Minkyung’s basement, scrolling through twitter on Minseo’s laptop and taking turns pointing to ‘relatable’ memes. _What Mingyu’s power is._

Minkyung had two fingers on the laptop’s touchpad, enlarging images and only half-paying attention.  _What?_

 _Guess!_ She exclaimed, and Chan had to keep himself from smiling like an idiot. Minseo was so filled with excitement and genuine enthusiasm.

The corner of Minkyung’s mouth twitched as Minseo took another chomp out of the apple. _I dunno,_ she looked up from the screen, _mind reading?_

Minseo shook her head. _Guess again._

_Telekinesis?_

Minseo shook her head again.

_Fortune telling?_

Once again, no.

They continued like this for a solid five minutes before Chan’s curiosity got the best of him. Minkyung was halfway through telling a story about her _cousin who could change color and catch the sun…_ when he finally caved.

 _C’mon, tell us!_ He wasn’t angry, or even frustrated, just a little louder than usual. Minkyung stopped short, and Minseo stopped chewing the hunk of apple still in her mouth.

After swallowing, Minseo began. _Right…_ She started off slowly, tentatively, but quickly fell into a normal pace.  _He can read people’s hearts. It’s like reading minds, but it’s only the mushy-gushy, emotional crap._

 _Oh, so it_  is _mind reading,_ Minkyung returned to the screen.

 _It is not!_ The two girls started bickering, but Chan was off in his own little world.

He knew he could never meet this boy. At least, he couldn’t meet him before he confesses to Minseo. He would avoid Mingyu at all costs— as if his life depended on it.)

Moments away from sleep, Chan feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. As to not be rude, he removes his cap and stares up into the sun. Sitting up, he takes a moment to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. A high schooler crouches next to Chan, looking ashamed, embarrassed, and mildly amused.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But your… thoughts were a little loud.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Chan gives a little nod, trying to appear as sincere as possible. This isn’t the first time a telepath has approached him. He does have a habit of overthinking… which can become annoying as an outsider looking in. “I was just falling asleep. In a few minutes, they should simmer down.”

The teen holds his hands up apologetically. “No, no,” he corrects. “It’s not that.” He rubs the back of his neck again, seemingly preparing to say something else. “It’s just…” he turns red, looking at a group of similarly-aged boys rough-housing in the waves.

Growing impatient, Chan interrupts. “What?” His tone isn’t accusatory or cruel, just abrupt.

“I’m Mingyu,” the boy blurts, his chocolate hair falling into his eyes.

Chan’s eyes widen. He’s at a loss for words: the damage has been done, now he just has to live with the consequences. Even still, he cannot deny the surge of panic that settles in his stomach. _I_ _’m done for! He’s gonna tell her!_

“Don’t worry,” Mingyu says, sitting next to Chan in the hot sand. “I’m not gonna tell her. That’s your job, when you’re ready.”

Chan exhales. “Thanks,” he perks up. “I’m sorry we had to meet this way.”

“Don’t be,” Mingyu spreads his legs out on the sand. “You can’t control the way you feel. People like to think they can— try to trick themselves into stifling their feelings— but they can’t. I hear it all the time.”

“Damn, that must be annoying,” Chan follows Mingyu’s line of sight to the group of boys he’s staring at. “For you, I mean. To have to listen to all that.”

Mingyu’s lip curves upward. “Not really. At least, not anymore,” he reclines, leaning back on his elbows. “It’s kind of satisfying. So many relationships are ruined by secrecy and lying, years wrecked by saying everything’s fine when it isn’t. That’s not a problem in my life; you can’t fake ‘fine’ in your heart.” His eyes fall upon a scrawny boy lying on his stomach and reading a book. He looks anachronous, with wire framed glasses, gently thumbing the pages of a thick novel.

“Who’s he?” Chan notices Mingyu’s fixation on the boy.

Mingyu’s head lolls over as he smiles at the sand. “That’s Wonwoo. My power is largely responsible for our relationship.” He looks up to meet Chan’s eyes. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, so you’re…” He trails off, not knowing how to complete the sentence. “...gay?”

Mingyu chuckles, recognizing the purity and lack of hate in Chan’s heart. “Yeah,” his eyes return to his group of friends, where pairs of boys have begun to break off from one another.

“Are they all gay, too?”

“No,” Mingyu grins. “But they  _are_ all in relationships with each other.”

“Cool,” Chan eyes catch on a waifish boy with thin, gauzy wings who floats above everyone else. “Wow, one of them has wings!”

“Yeah, that’s Minghao,” Mingyu starts talking with his hands. “He’s my best friend.”

“And the rest? What can they do?” Chan’s curiosity outweighs his respect for privacy. And, considering Mingyu just involuntarily violated the privacy of his own heart, Chan figures this question isn’t _too_ intrusive.

He points to them one by one. “Well, the hot one looking at Minghao is Junhui. They’re dating.”

Chan’s not gay— he’s never been attracted to a boy in his life— but something about Junhui is undeniably captivating. His auburn hair sweeps over his head, mingling with the drying seawater to create a crown. His skin is taught and tan, he is lean yet chiseled. And, to top it all off, he seems to be glowing. Maybe it’s the sun reflecting off the ocean, but Junhui appears to be  _shimmering._

For a split second, Chan questions his sexuality. His miniature crisis is interrupted by quiet laughter. “Dude, I don’t think you’re gay.” Mingyu says between snickers. “Junhui has this thing called  _glamour_ ,” he wiggles his fingers. “It’s a category of illusion. He warps people’s perception of him. He’s incredibly attractive and persuasive for that reason.”

“Oh,” Chan laughs. “That must complicate things.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, raising his eyebrows. “You see, with all the others, I can tell when they’re lying. I can’t see past Jun’s glamour, though. So I just have to trust that he’ll do right by Minghao— or so help me god, I will make him pay.”

He points to a circle of three older boys; they almost look like men. “Okay, so the one who looks like someone from the Twilight saga is Seungcheol. He’s indestructible. Jeonghan— the guy with long hair— can shapeshift.”

Chan makes little noises in acknowledgment. Mingyu points to the last boy in the group, who has soft, pixie-ish features. He’s holding Jeonghan’s hand. “That’s Josh. His can travel back in time, but it’s, like, _really_ stressful.”

It’s clear Mingyu doesn’t wanna talk about it, so Chan just shifts his eyes to the next group. Two boys, both engulfed in laughter, as one runs in circles and the other collapses with giggles. “That’s Soonyoung and Seokmin. Tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. Soonyoung, as you can probably tell, can run super fast and lift super heavy things. Seokmin is a literal happy virus. He can telekinetically tickle people.”

“Does that _ever_ come in handy?” Chan asks incredulously.

Punctuating his statement, Soonyoung doubles over in laughter. “Handy? I don’t know,” Mingyu looks pleased with himself. “But they’re happy. And that’s gotta count for something.”

Chan’s eyes trail over to the last group of two. One of the boys is familiar. “What’s Hansol doing here?”

“You know him?” Mingyu asks, raising an eyebrow.

Chan nods. “He was on my basketball team when we were kids. He also went to my middle school, but he’s a grade ahead of me, so I haven’t seen him in about a year.”

“Oh, you’re coming to our school next year?” Mingyu sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Chan nods. Mingyu climbs to his feet. “Why don’t you come say hello?” He extends a hand to Chan. As if he read Chan’s mind (which, in hindsight, he probably _did_ ), Mingyu adds, “At least to Hansol and Seungkwan.”

Chan grabs Mingyu’s hand to hoist himself to his feet. He doesn’t answer Mingyu, simply plods across the sand behind the tall boy.

They stop next to Wonwoo’s towel. “Hansol! Seungkwan! C’mere!” Mingyu yells, his palms cupped around his mouth.

“Who’s this?” Wonwoo looks up from his book, eyes squinting against the sun.

“Chan,” he says, smiling down at the boy. “Pleased to meet you.”

Wonwoo smiles, taking off his glasses. “Gyu, he’s so cute!” Wonwoo sounds like he’s talking about a puppy or a small child, not a 14 year old.

Mingyu claps Chan, who involuntarily puffed out his chest, on the shoulder. “Awe c’mon, he’s not a baby!” Chan brightens, but something about the couple is suspicious. They make strange faces at each other, as if they’re having a silent conversation or something. _Weird_ , Chan thinks.

“OH MY GOD DINO!” Hansol comes out of nowhere, barreling into the small boy. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“Calm down,” the other boy skips behind Hansol, coming up to cling to his arm. “I’m Seungkwan. You must be Chan.”

“How did you…”

Mingyu cuts him off. “Seungkwan’s clairvoyant.”

Chan immediately fills with excitement. “I have  _so_ many questions for you! Like, what’s my power gon—”

“He’s not _that_ clairvoyant,” Mingyu butts in.

Seungkwan clarifies, albeit a bit more quietly, “I can only see up to a few hours in the future. Usually, it’s only a few minutes, though.”

Chan tries not to look too disappointed. “That’s still cool,” he turns to Hansol. “What can _you_ do?”

“Talk to animals,” Hansol brushes it off easily. “In fact, we were deep in a conversation with a school of minnows before Mingyu called us over here.”

“What do you talk about with minnows?” Wonwoo asks from the ground. “They’re _fish_. Don’t they only have a seven second memory?”

“Actually, it’s closer to seventeen seconds,” Hansol holds up a finger. “And we talk about everything. Their way of life, my way of life, love, friendship, complicated human emotions, all that shit. It’s lit.”

“Holy crap, things sure change a lot after everyone gets their powers,” Chan observes.

“Yeah, but mostly for the better,” Seungkwan defends. “I mean, most of these budding relationships are thanks to Mingyu’s ‘intuition’.”

“Oh,” Chan nods understandingly, turning to Mingyu. “So you’re like Cupid?”

Everyone chortles… except for Mingyu, who simply rolls his eyes. “You know, I never thought it would catch on! Really! I don’t see it!”

The boys make their way toward the water, Mingyu pulling off his shirt and Wonwoo dog-earing his book. “Lighten up Cupid!” Hansol screams as he splashes into the water, flanked by Seungkwan.

“Why am _I_ named after the fat baby with wings?” Mingyu chases after the pair, leaving Chan and Wonwoo alone on the beach, trudging toward the shoreline together. Chan’s confusion is evident as he watches the group of boys splash each other with salty water.

“Was it something I said?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this doesn't follow anything with meanie, but I NEEDED to do a beach chapter with dino before summer ends!!! i hope it wasn't toooooo confusing and u guys don't get toooooo mad at me!
> 
> just a refresher-- in this tale, all the pristin girls are aged randomly because I AM A PIECE OF SHIT!! actually, everyone's kinda aged randomly --- like, Nana is a middle aged mom and Lizzy is Hansol's dog--- everything's confusing, i knowww... i'm sorry. 
> 
> thanks for enjoying the last chapter so much! reading your comments help convince me that writing this is more important than school work : THANK YOU! 
> 
> hope u have a lovely day/night!! feel free to talk to me on twitter (@baebysungyeon) or tumblr (@hashtagwyd)!! 
> 
> also--- i kinda have a playlist that i've compiled over time that i listen to when i write this fic. lemme know if anyone's interested in hearing it! 
> 
> love u guys lots!!! :)


	17. happy (almost) halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sulking sunflower, a neon red highlighter, and a Hufflepuff walk into a party...

“Wait — tell me again why we’re having a Halloween party  _two weeks_ after Halloween?” Wonwoo flips through a magazine as he sprawls out on Mingyu’s bed.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, thumbing through his closet for the third time this afternoon. “I’ve already told you,” he complains, settling on a black velvet cape with red lining. It was part of his Dracula costume last year, and he’s determined it will be part of his Dracula costume this year. “This was the only weekend Jeonghan and Josh have free.”

“Awe,” Wonwoo whines, flinging the magazine onto the floor. “But the magic is gone! All of the jack-o-lanterns have been replaced with Christmas lights, and they’ve stopped repeating ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ on TV! Everyone’s moved on and we’re stuck celebrating Halloween like a bunch of idiots!” Mingyu chuckles under his breath at Wonwoo’s exasperation.

“Listen,” Mingyu says, tying the cape around his neck, “you wouldn’t have enjoyed it if we had celebrated it on Halloween. You were pretty much a nervous wreck all night.”

“What are you tal—” Wonwoo cuts himself off, remembering the night before the Early Action deadline.

( _Stop biting your nails,_ Mingyu rubbed Wonwoo’s back reassuringly as Wonwoo stared at the ‘submit’ button for his Common Application. _You’re gonna get in._

 _I’m still nervous_ , Wonwoo’s voice broke. _What if I’m forgetting something? What if my test scores don’t send? What if—_

Mingyu placed a finger to his boyfriend’s lips.  _You’ve been working on your essay for months. You’ve double and triple checked that your transcript sent. You have two teacher recommendations and a special letter from your art teacher. I’m sure your portfolio is sensational… even though you didn’t let me see it,_ he trailed off.

 _It’s not,_ Wonwoo huffed.

 _Look at me,_ Mingyu gently tilted Wonwoo’s face toward his own. _You are amazing. Any art program would be lucky to have you._

There they sat, hunched over in front of a laptop in the dark, a woolen blanket draped over both of their bodies, and a cup of green tea steeping on the floor next to them. Wonwoo felt warm. Mingyu felt warm. Everything was warm.

Wonwoo pressed ‘submit’.)

“It’s time to go anyway,” Mingyu laughs, adding red lipstick on and around his lips to give the illusion of blood. He used some shimmery white powder that he found in Minseo’s room to pale his face.

Wonwoo sighed, pulling the massive yellow flower petals over the perimeter of his face.

“You are the cutest, sulkiest sunflower I have ever seen,” Mingyu giggles.

 **“Let’s get this over with,”** Wonwoo smiles. “I haven’t had the greatest experience with Soonyoung’s parties.”

“No one has,” Mingyu takes Wonwoo’s hand. “Just don’t drink anything Seokmin or Soonyoung hands you, and you should be fine.”

The sun sets early as Autumn bleeds into winter. Even though it’s scarcely past six pm, the streetlights are beginning to flicker on. The thick, gold glitter coating Wonwoo’s cheekbones catch the half-light, causing Mingyu’s heart to do somersaults like it did nearly a year ago. “You’re so pretty.”

Wonwoo presses himself into Mingyu’s side, making contented noises with his heart. “I’m cold,” he lies, grabbing Mingyu’s arm and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Hey guys!” A voice yells overhead. “You heading to Soonyoung’s?”

The vampire and the sunflower look up to see Minghao gliding effortlessly through the air. He’s dressed in all white, with a golden halo perched atop his head. “Ten bucks says Jeonghan’s gonna be dressed exactly the same,” Mingyu communicates wordlessly to Wonwoo.

**“You’re on.”**

Mingyu nods at the angel. “Yep,” he rounds the corner onto Soonyoung’s street. Cars line the street, and the blue house at the end of the street illuminates with neon light. Bass vibrates softly throughout the neighborhood.

“I thought it starts at seven,” Wonwoo questions, gesturing to the couple making out on the lawn and the makeshift dance floor visible through the window.

“Oh, it does,” Minghao floats down, lightly landing at the doorway. “This is Soonyoung’s version of pregaming.”

Minghao opens the door, flinging himself through it. Wonwoo grips Mingyu’s waist a little tighter.

“You alright?” Mingyu asks. “We can leave whenever you want.”

**“I’m okay.”**

“Ready?” Mingyu pulls apart from Wonwoo to hold hands. He squeezes gently after their fingers interlace.

Wonwoo nods, squeezing in return. “Waffle hands,” he marvels as they wander through the open door.

Despite the biting wind chill of the outdoors, it feels like a sauna in Soonyoung’s house. The rooms are packed from wall to wall with teenagers and twenty-somethings. The women and girls wear tight-fitting black jumpsuits and cat ears with ‘cute’ little whiskers crudely drawn on their cheeks with sharpie.

Mingyu feels Wonwoo suctioning to his side. He tucks his arm beneath Mingyu’s, winding the two boys together as they climb the stairs to Soonyoung’s room. “It’s usually empty up here,” Mingyu reassures Wonwoo.

Neither boy speaks — not that they would be able to hear one another over the incessant chatter and buzz of the stereo.

Mingyu hears a familiar voice echoing out the superhuman’s bedroom. **“I’m so glad I agreed to do this… he looks so cute!”** Seokmin’s heart squeals. Mingyu assumes the worst, stopping Wonwoo from opening the door to the bedroom. Wonwoo looks at the tall vampire expectantly.

The empath listens carefully for a few seconds. Seungkwan says something loudly about how they _should have done this in the bathroom,_ and Josh thinks something dripping with admiration for **_Jeonghan’s skills with hair_.** Mingyu nods at Wonwoo, gesturing that it’s safe to enter.

They are greeted by everyone — even Seungcheol, who’s dressed as a 50s greaser with slicked-back hair and a worn leather jacket. Minghao is the only one missing. “Hao’s getting drinks,” Junhui notices Mingyu’s puzzlement. “He should be back up soon.”

“YOUNG,” Seokmin and Soonyoung yell in unison, cracking themselves up.

Wonwoo takes a seat on the bed next to Hansol and Seungkwan, who are shaking their heads at the aforementioned couple.

“What are you doing?” Mingyu asks. Seokmin coats Soonyoung’s bleached scalp in neon red (is it even _possible_ for red to be _neon_?) hair dye. It looks like a disaster scene to Mingyu. Soonyoung is shirtless, standing on a rumpled towel in the middle of his bedroom. Jeonghan stands nearby, but not close enough to risk any dye touching his skin or hair. He instructs Seokmin, who is presently slathering the illegally-purchased permanent dye onto his boyfriend — bare-handedly.

“Isn’t that going to stain your hands?” Mingyu asks, maneuvering carefully around the mess. Seokmin just shrugs.

“Why don’t you just sit back and enjoy it,” Jun laughs, folding his hands behind his head as he reclines in a beanbag chair.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, taking a seat next to Wonwoo. **“You owe me ten bucks,”** Wonwoo points to Jeonghan, who is fully dressed as Harley Quinn.

Mingyu huffs. “Can I pay you in kisses?” He flashes an innocent smile.

 **“Nice try,”** Wonwoo responds, wagging a finger at his boyfriend. **“But I will accept payment in the form of jellybeans, soup, hot cocoa, or… cake.”** He adds the last word thoughtfully.

“I might just take you up on that,” Mingyu laughs, putting his arm around Wonwoo.

Hansol interrupts their conversation. “What the fuck are you guys doing?” The two boys break eye contact to see everyone’s eyes on them.

“What?” Mingyu is genuinely puzzled, until he hears Wonwoo pipe up next to him.

**“We are having a conversation… without talking.”**

“Oh,” Mingyu meets Wonwoo’s eyes, chuckling. “We must look hilarious.”

Wonwoo smiles, scrunching up his nose. **“Probably even more _now_.”**

“Do you want to tell them?” Mingyu points around the room, only vaguely aware that Seokmin has stopped putting dye Soonyoung’s hair.

 **“Nah, you do it,”** Wonwoo waves his hand dismissively. **“After all, it’s your power.”**

“Okay,” Mingyu sighs. “Wonwoo and I are fully telepathic with one another.”

Gasps erupt around the room. Seungkwan puts his hands over his mouth is surprise. Jeonghan is the first to speak, uttering a quiet _how_?

Before Mingyu can respond, Junhui chimes in. “It’s not unheard of,” he rises to his feet. “People obtaining second, or even third powers, I mean. Powers can alter, too, in order to fulfill an imminent need. The most common of these occurs psychics, telepathics, and telekinetics. For instance,” Jun’s brief answer gradually morphs into regurgitation of Supernatural History lectures. “Seokmin’s tickling could easily shift into inflicting pain or otherwise changing someone else’s sensual perception, if need be. It only happens in times of extreme stress, though.”

For a second, everyone stares at Junhui in disbelief. Seungkwan jumps when Hansol yells, “Cool! So all I have to do is get stressed, and then I can get another power?”

“No.” Junhui and Seungkwan respond in unison.

Seokmin leads Soonyoung to the bathroom to wash out the dye. As he pulls the door open, Minghao flutters in, flanked by someone dressed in a stupidly large duck costume. “Look who I found!” Minghao gives drinks to Josh, Jeonghan, and Junhui.

The duck takes off the head of the costume to reveal Chan.

“How are you liking high school?” Seungkwan asks enthusiastically.

Chan grins from ear to ear. “I like it! Everyone is so,” he pauses, stealing a glance at Minghao’s fluttering wings, “magical.”

“Soon you will be, too, just you wait,” Mingyu says. “When do you turn fifteen?”

“February,” Chan’s face falls. “I still have four months left.”

“Savor it,” Jeonghan shouts from his seat in the corner with Joshua, who’s dressed as joker. “You’ll come to miss the simpler times before magic.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hansol snaps. “I love talking to animals  _way_ more than  _not_ talking to animals, thank you very much.”

“I kinda agree with Jeonghan,” Mingyu addresses Chan again. “Minseo is turned 15 a few days ago.” Chan’s heart goes wild with the mention of Minseo. Mingyu conceals a smile.

Trying to sound natural, Chan inquires after her. “What’s her power?” Followed by a clandestine,  **“Is my face red?”**

Mingyu shakes his head gently, pretending he’s adjusting his bangs. “She follows in Grandma Kim’s footsteps of thermal manipulation. Nearly set her bed on fire last week while she was having a nightmare.” Then, after listening to Chan’s concern for Minseo’s health, Mingyu quickly adds. “She can’t be affected by heat or cold anymore, either. That’s true of any thermokinetic,” he turns to the rest of the group. “They regulate their own body temperature always, so heat doesn’t affect them.”

“Good to know,” Minghao rolls his eyes, not truly caring.

“Ta- da!” Soonyoung bursts through the door, head looking like some sorry excuse for a lipstick. Seungkwan jumps, mumbling something about _stop doing that._

Seungcheol laughs. “You look like a highlighter.”

“Perfect,” Soonyoung claps gleefully as he rushes to his closet. He dresses himself in full neon within a matter of seconds. Written across his t-shirt in bold letters is the ‘sharpie’ logo. “I'm a highlighter, guys!”

Seokmin stuffs his bright red hands in his pockets, leaning against the door jam to admire Soonyoung. **“Cute,”** he thinks.

“Everyone — get into costumes!” Soonyoung claps, ushering everyone out of their comfortable seats. “The party’s about to start.”

Seungkwan becomes a pumpkin, complete with a brown hat for a stem. Hansol wears gold chains, which he refers to as ‘bling’, baggy pants, a sideways hat, and grills made from aluminum foil. Junhui nonchalantly pulls a headband with devil horns out of his back pocket — paired with his red shirt and his devilishly good looks, he looks like Lucifer incarnate.

Seokmin dresses as Harry Potter, insisting that he’s a Gryffindor. “You _so_ aren’t a Gryffindor!” Soonyoung gets a little too passionate, forcing everyone to take the Pottermore sorting test on their phones before heading downstairs. “No one parties until they  _know themselves_!”

“And this is the best way to do that?” Seokmin mumbles rhetorically, earning a glare from Soonyoung.

Soonyoung lead the group in announcing his house. “Hufflepuff!”

Junhui finishes second. “Ravenclaw.” He seems proud, and it makes total sense — he’s always talking about Supernatural History and Chinese.

“Gryffindor,” Hansol says hesitantly. “Whatever that means.”

“I got Gryffindor, too,” Chan adds.

Mingyu nods. “Same.”

“We got Ravenclaw,” Jeonghan shouts.

“Both of you?” Wonwoo asks, incredulous, to which they both nod.

Seungcheol clears his throat. “Gryffindor.”

“Sss-slytherin,” Minghao hisses, snuggling up close to Junhui. **“Match made in heaven.”**

“How the hell did  _I_ receive Slytherin? I’m not some conniving, selfish, annoying—” Seungkwan cuts himself off there, greeted with a stare that could cut glass from Minghao.

Mingyu sees Wonwoo’s screen before his boyfriend speaks. “I got Hufflepuff.”

“I knew you would.” Wonwoo smiles, squeezing Mingyu’s side.

“Me too,” Seokmin says uncomfortably under his breath.

“I knew it!” Soonyoung sticks out his tongue, teasing Seokmin. “I told you, Dokyeommie; there was no _way_ you were a Gryffindor.”

“Whatever,” Seokmin toys with the scarf around his neck. “I can still be Harry?” He phrases it uncertainly, like a question.

 **“Shit, he seems hurt.”** Soonyoung’s face falls. He sticks a finger beneath Seokmin’s drooping chin. “Of course, Dokyeom.”

Seokmin cracks a smile. “Okay, Hoshi Highlighter,” he grabs Soonyoung’s hand. “Let’s get this party started!”

Everyone files out of the room, melting perfectly into the crowd of people throughout the house. Mingyu attaches himself to Wonwoo’s side, admiring the way the latter’s face glistens in the dim light. In the living room, they happen across a makeshift dance floor, surrounded in Christmas lights. Mingyu leads Wonwoo into the densely packed group of dancing people.

 **“I can’t dance,”** Wonwoo thinks nervously, begging Mingyu not to make him move to the music.

“Sure you can,” he places his hand in the small of Wonwoo’s back, pressing their bodies together. “Follow my lead.”

Wonwoo’s hand is sweaty as he takes it. The song switches as they start dancing. “I know this one!” Wonwoo exclaims, but Mingyu can barely hear him over the music.

Slowly, but surely, Mingyu watches Wonwoo’s discomfort fall away. He jumps, bobs his head, sways his body — not looking awkward all the while. Mingyu is a little thrown off by how  _not_ bad Wonwoo is at dancing. By the second time the chorus comes around, the room is yelling the words:

_Got me singing like,_   
_ooh, zoom._   
_Why are you grabbing the arrow keys?_   
_Just let it roll out, roll out,_   
_ooh, zoom._   
_Don’t be afraid,_   
_but we don’t know where we’ll go._   
_Build a rocket with me,_   
_blast it up to the sky,_   
_look, we fly so far._

Mingyu can see Wonwoo holding back his voice — he knows he would sedate everyone if he were to sing. As the song ends, Mingyu can’t tell who’s sweat is on his body and Wonwoo has never looked more beautiful. Glitter on his face, flower petals around his head, and love in his eyes makes Wonwoo shine like the diamond he is.

A slow song comes up next. Mingyu pulls Wonwoo into his chest.  **“I love you,”** Wonwoo thinks, resting his head on Mingyu’s shoulder.

Mingyu’s heart does backflips in his stomach. “I love you more,” and before he can prevent his feelings from spilling forth, he blurts, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Wonwoo tenses. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that,” his face heats up. “I didn’t mean to get all committment-y on you. Sorry.”

 **“No, it’s not that,”** Wonwoo thinks, relaxing his muscles. **“It just caught me off guard.”**

Mingyu decides to not push it, and remains silent as they move back and forth to the slow jam. **“I want that, too.”**

The tall vampire smiles so hard that he’s convinced Wonwoo can feel it. Clutching Wonwoo more tightly, he hears a faint humming. Wonwoo’s heart sings along with the music:

  ** _When you’re tired and exhausted,_**  
 ** _I will make it bright for you,_**  
 ** _so try to laugh brilliantly,_**  
 ** _And to be each other’s strength,_**  
 ** _let’s sing together throughout the night._**

As the song changes yet again, Wonwoo's heart talks.  **“You know, that song is called ‘Campfire’.”** Mingyu nods, not sure what to make of the statement. **“We should have one of those. When it gets nice and cold. With hot cocoa and s’mores and friends.”**

“Anything for you, my Hufflepuff sunflower.”

Wonwoo kisses Mingyu in the darkness, their love drowning out the world around them. Mingyu pulls away, greeted with laughter from Wonwoo. “What?” Mingyu actually whispers, forgetting he can just think what he needs to say.

“Nothing,” Wonwoo says, deciding not to tell Mingyu of the gold glitter Wonwoo transferred to his face. Instead, he just beams at the vampire. “Happy Halloween.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG GUYS IT'S BEEN SO. LONG. I'M SORRY.
> 
> I fell kinda out of touch with kpop, what with applying to college and the onset of senior year. We just finished reading Pride and Prejudice in my AP Lit class... what do y'all think of a P&P AU with Woozi as Mr. Darcy and Soonyoung as Lizzy? I'd love to change classic English lit into gay kpop fanfiction--- just gimme the word!
> 
> Also, a few things about this chapter:   
> -Minseo is obviously aged differently in this than she is in real life.   
> -I made up their Hogwarts houses according to how I feel. Completely my opinion... I'd love to hear yours!  
> -Hoshi's hair is from this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXpCm-IFBgE dance practice  
> -the songs mentioned are Rocket and Campfire, off of Teen, Age. I don't speak Korean, so I got the translations from these videos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBxGdPk5X00 and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arfqTDYGZP0   
> -some of the costumes were actually worn by the boys irl, but others were just my imagination. 
> 
> I WILL NOT ABANDON THIS STORY!!! I PROMISE!! Your continuous support is always appreciated :)  
> I'm gonna start some Pristin soon --- let me know if you have any preferences on pairings. I LOVE PRISTIN SO MUCH! 
> 
> aLSO, if y'all wanna rant to me about the new album or anythingggggg, feel free! hmu @hashtagwyd on twitter and tumblr! love y'all, be back soon (hopefully) :)
> 
> and here's a smiley wonwoo for your troubles http://baebysungyeon.tumblr.com/post/167507509553/bokdeongeori-happy-wonwoo


	18. a whopping handful of mints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing... weather, school, feelings, and hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex is mentioned for like, five seconds. nothing explicit. i just say 'third base'. that is all.

Autumn never lasts long where Mingyu lives. One morning, it was so comfortable outdoors that he only sported a thin sweatshirt and jeans, but the next, it was fucking freezing. Every morning, he scrapes ice off his windshield before getting in the car. It sucks.

It’s snowing gently outside, and Mingyu sits by the window, scrolling through Twitter on his phone with some hot cocoa balanced on the sill. A text illuminates the top of the screen from ‘romeo’.

_hey, u busy?_

Mingyu texts back quickly.  _Nope. What’s up?_

  _good. come outside_  
  
_tell ur mom that ull be home in a few hours_

_i have something to tell uuuuuuuuuu :)_

Mingyu sighs fondly, heaving him off of the plush recliner and chugging the remaining hot cocoa. He hurries into the kitchen, throws on a pair of sneakers, and decides on a thick leather jacket. Technically, it’s his father’s, but it’s the warmest coat in the house. And it’s  _snowing_ for god’s sake.

“I’m going out with Wonwoo!” Mingyu yells up the stairs to no one in particular. “I’ll be back in a few hours!”

“Be careful,” his mother says, sticking her head out of the bedroom at the top of the stairs. “The roads look a little iffy.”

“I will,” Mingyu grabs the car keys and braces himself for the cold. His eyes scour the yard for a familiar boy with sweater paws and spectacles, but he is greeted with a huge, green minivan parked in the road.

Mingyu makes an awkward run-shuffle to the car. One of the back doors opens automatically, sliding to reveal a clean, warm Wonwoo. He smiles cheerily, the light from the inside of the car casting shadows on his face. “Get in!” He laughs. “You’re letting all the warm air out!”

Not asking questions, Mingyu hops into the seat next to Wonwoo. He buckles in as the car pulls away from the curb.

“What is all of this?” Mingyu asks, taken aback by the incredible change in Wonwoo’s appearance. He gestures vaguely — kind of aiming at the car surrounding them, kind of aiming at his boyfriend’s outfit, but mostly aiming at the  _dirty-fucking-blonde hair_ that is currently sitting atop Wonwoo’s head.

Wonwoo gives a strange grin. He seems different — proud of himself, almost. Mingyu can’t help but smile. Although the boy sitting beside him could easily be mistaken for a stranger, there is an unmissable nervous-excited energy emanating from his heart that feels so, incredibly, undeniably,  _Wonwoo_.

It also helps that Wonwoo smells like he always does — like mint gum and generic soap.

Suddenly, all of Wonwoo’s thoughts overflow from his heart as a blubbering stream. **“I got in! I got in! I got into art school! It’s only twenty minutes away! We can visit all the time! Everything is perfect! I found out today! I got in! I got in! I can’t believe it oh my god! I got in!”**

Mingyu grins at the future art school student, tears welling up in his eyes. He’s not sure why it moves him to tears — Wonwoo’s not even _crying_ , for goodness sake — but it does. Maybe it’s because he’s been with Wonwoo through the entire grueling process. Applying to university is hard enough to  _witness_ , but Mingyu  _felt_ it through his boyfriend. Every uncertainty, every stressful late night, every deadline; Mingyu felt it all.

He pulls Wonwoo in for a hug, inhaling deeply. Mingyu doesn’t speak aloud, not willing to risk a shaky, wet voice thick with love and emotion. “I’m so proud of you.” He kisses Wonwoo gently on the mouth.

The boys don’t even realize they’re stopped until Mingyu hears a soft, female voice calling gently from the front seat. “We’re here!” She turns around, offering Mingyu a smile so wide that her eyes turn into crescents.

“Oh,” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck nervously, feeling like a rude idiot. “Hi,” he sticks out his hand to the woman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Mingyu.”

She just grins wider, accepting the handshake with a chuckle.  **“Don’t be sorry, Mingyu.”** “Hello, Mingyu. I’m Mrs. Jeon. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Mingyu chuckles nervously as she leads them inside some restaurant on Main Street. Wonwoo buries himself in Mingyu’s side, partially for warmth and partially for affection. **“Don’t worry. She’s really nice… and she’s been _dying_ to meet you.”**

Mingyu looks at his boyfriend disbelievingly. “Really?”

 **“Yeah,”** Wonwoo nods. **“Just don’t be surprised if she asks a lot of questions. She loves to pry, but I don’t give her much to work with. She thinks she’ll have an easier time getting answers out of you, I think.”**

“Great,” Mingyu’s palms begin to sweat. “ _That_ doesn’t make me nervous at all.”

Wonwoo squeezes his arm as Mrs. Jeon turns to Mingyu. **“It’s okay,”** he whispers. Mingyu believes him.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re here,” Wonwoo’s mother opens the door for them. She’s soft-spoken, but there is a constant smile hanging in her voice. Mingyu can feel her heart humming with contentedness — his empathy has been growing stronger, to the extent that he can sense people’s general moods much more easily than he used to.

Mingyu breathes out heavily, happy to be out of the biting early-December weather. “Yeah, a little.”

She turns abruptly to the hostess at the front of the dimly lit restaurant. “Is this place five stars?”

Wonwoo laughs. **“Four,”** he squeezes Mingyu’s arm as a waitress leads them to a booth. **“She wanted to go all-out for my celebratory dinner.”**

Mrs. Jeon slides into the seat first, followed by Wonwoo. Mingyu, being the largest in stature, sits across from his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s mother. The Jeons look at Mingyu for a moment — Wonwoo with silent encouragement and Mrs. Jeon with bubbly curiosity — before Mrs. Jeon takes off her coat. She reveals a beautiful blouse, with purple, sparkly flowers embroidered across the collar. “That’s a lovely shirt, Mrs. Jeon.”

 **“Thank you,”** her heart speaks before her mouth. “Thank you! It was a gift from this one,” she nudges Wonwoo, who mutters a small _mom_ under his breath. Then, changing the subject, she adds, “Do you have any idea why we kidnapped you for the evening?”

He relaxes. “To celebrate Wonwoo’s acceptance to university?” Mingyu asks apprehensively.

He mouth forms a small _o_ and she raises her eyebrows in mild surprise. “Why,” she begins, her voice falling short. “Why, _yes_. How did you know?” Then she turns to Wonwoo, acting a little hurt. “I thought you said I was the first one to know?”

Saving Wonwoo from the awkward confrontation, Mingyu interjects. “You were. He told me in the car.” He tacks a signature, canine-bearing smile onto the end of his statement in order to relieve any residual tension.

It only sort of works. “I appreciate you saying that, Mingyu,” her eyebrows turn up slightly as she looks at Mingyu with pity. **“Lying to protect my feelings, even if he’s bad at it. But I was in the car the whole time. They barely spoke.”** Her heart sighs. **“He’s a good boy.”**

Mingyu’s mouth slants into the genuine half-smile that dramatic irony always produces. He knows something Mrs. Jeon doesn’t, and he has the power to set the record straight. “You’re right, I am an awful liar,” he starts, crossing his hands gently in his lap. “Which is why I don’t lie very often anymore.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re a…”

“... empath,” he happily finishes her sentence, leaving her stunned. The surprise written all over her face is only made more amusing by the return of her buzzing, optimistic energy. “Kind of like a telepath,” he adds.

Collecting herself and taking a sip of her water, her countenance snaps back to her usual smile. “Tell me, Mingyu,” she asks. “What exactly is the difference between a telepath and an empath?”

“A telepath can read minds,” Mingyu says plainly. “An empath can read hearts.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Jeon giggles. “Like Cupid, right?”

Mingyu fights the urge to roll his eyes. Wonwoo snorts. “Mom,” he says, not finishing his thought as he bursts into laughter.

“What?” Mrs. Jeon says, but before anyone can explain the humor, a waitress approaches the table.

“Good evening,” the young woman’s voice is oddly familiar to Mingyu, with a hint of a foreign accent playing behind it. “My name is Shannon. I will be your server tonight,” her eyes flicker between Wonwoo and his mother as she speaks. “Can I get you anyth—” Her eyes fall on Mingyu. **“Hello!”**

Mingyu smiles brightly at the girl. “It’s nice to see you! How are things going?” He thinks back to that morning nearly a year ago when he helped a crying stranger decide the future of her love life. He was on the way to his first date with Wonwoo, in fact.

Shannon smiles, swinging her arms down to her sides, still clutching a notepad in one. “Better than ever,” she says.  **“Thanks to you.”** “I’m back from university for the holidays, and the manager said I could have my old job back for a few weeks to make some extra money.”

“That’s great,” Mingyu smiles. She looks really happy. “And I assume everything worked out with…” he doesn’t know the name of the boy, so he just moves his hands vaguely.

She understands. “Oh, yeah,” she smiles. “He didn’t get into pre med at my university, so he decided to do a few years of Community College down the street from me to get his gen ed requirements out of the way.”

He can feel the love and happiness flowing from the girl’s heart. “I’m happy for you, Shannon.”

“Thanks, Cupid,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

Mrs. Jeon makes a noise of comprehension, realizing she isn’t the first person to refer to Mingyu as the cherub. Wonwoo watches in awe, but finally finds his voice. “I’m Wonwoo, Mingyu’s boyfriend.”

“Really?” Shannon smiles, returning to her notepad momentarily. “It must be something else,” she pauses before meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. “Dating an empath, I mean.”

“It is,” Wonwoo starts, making eye contact with Mingyu, “something else.”

After a momentary silence, Shannon puts on her formal, customer-service voice. “Can I start you off with drinks?”

They all stick with water, and she nods. “Are you ready to order? Or would you like a few more minutes to look over the menu?”

Mrs. Jeon pipes up. “I think we’re ready,” she smiles, relaying a carefully-planned three course meal to Shannon, who jots it down on the notepad.

Wonwoo smiles at Mingyu from across the table. **“The food here is amazing. You’re gonna love it. Trust me.”**

Mingyu does.

The food is delicious. Somewhere toward the beginning of dessert, Mingyu asks Mrs. Jeon, “What do you do? For a living, I mean.”

She smiles, taking a dainty bite of red velvet cheesecake and chewing slowly. She brushed some of her shoulder length, black hair behind her left ear. “Manual labor,” she grins.

Mingyu wasn’t expecting that. He raises an eyebrow. “Really?” He looks at Wonwoo, who simply nods. “You look like an office worker or a professor or something,” Mingyu observes.

She laughs heartily. “It all comes with my power. I get to dress like this all the time.”

Curiosity burns in Mingyu’s stomach. He briefly thinks about Jieqiong, the polyglot who works at the pet store. _She would appreciate Mrs. Jeon’s incorporation of her gift into her profession._ “What can you do?” Mingyu attempts to keep his voice level as her suppresses his excitement.

“Sonokinesis,” she looks slightly proud. “Sound manipulation.”

“Ugh, mom,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes playfully. “That’s just a fancy word for a banshee.”

She gasps. “You _know_ I don’t like that word, Wonwoo,” she snaps. Then, addressing Mingyu, she clarifies. “‘Banshee’ is kind of… derogatory. Like calling someone with heat control ‘Hothead’, or someone who can fly ‘Dumbo’, or someone with heightened elasticity ‘Rubber Band’, or—”

She trails off, but Wonwoo jumps in. “Or like calling an empath ‘Cupid’?” He looks at her expectantly.

Mrs. Jeon only hangs her head a little bit, “Touché,” she whispers.  **“Sorry, Mingyu,”** the taller boy hears.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Jeon,” he responds aloud. “It doesn’t bother me.”

She brightens a little at that. Mingyu asks her more questions about her power, and before long, she’s back to her original chipper attitude. “I can use sound waves to move things. See, that’s why the term ‘Banshee’ really irks me,” she says between bites. “It’s not like I’m screaming my head off all the live-long day. I’m basically silent.”

 **“Silent? That’s funny,”** Wonwoo thinks.

Mingyu stifles a laugh. “Shut up,” he talks to Wonwoo. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.” “So you move things?”

“Yeah,” she finishes her slice of cheesecake. “But I specialize in demolition.”

Wonwoo interrupts. “She can also fly!”

Mrs. Jeon looks embarrassed. “Yeah, but it’s hard.” Mingyu looks impressed. “I’m heavy. It takes a lot of concentration to lift a human.”

Wonwoo’s heart snorts. **“That’s a lie. She lifts heavy things every day.”**

Mingyu ignores his boyfriend for the time being. “Wow,” he makes a noise of interest. “What else can you do?”

“Hmmm,” Mrs. Jeon rouges at the intensity of fascination. “I have heightened hearing.”

Wonwoo nods to himself, obviously thinking back to specific circumstances. **“That’s _definitely_ true.”**

Mingyu looks at Wonwoo threateningly. “Stop! If I laugh, she’s gonna think I’m laughing at her!”

 **“So? You _should_ be laughing at her. She’s a funny lady,”** Wonwoo smirks.

Mingyu just sighs, shaking his head. “She’s _nice_ ,” his heart whines. “I just wanna leave a good impression, okay?”

The two lovebirds are too engulfed in their own telepathic conversation to notice the silence that has fallen over the table. Meanwhile, Mrs. Jeon’s eyes flicker back and forth between their faces, watching them change expressions as if they’re talking to one another.

“I thought you said you were an empath?” She eventually speaks, drawing them out of each other’s hearts. They look at her in unison.

Mingyu rubs the back of his neck, like always. “Kinda,” he says. “But I also can share thoughts with Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo adds something nervously. “We don’t really know why or how, but it’s some kind of telepathy between us.”

She thinks for a moment, her face (and heart) unreadable. “I think you two are emotionally linked.” Her voice is flat, but her heart flutters. Mingyu can feel it. **“My son has a soulmate.”**

Mingyu relays the information silently to Wonwoo. “She thinks we’re soulmates.”

The prospective college student blushes, sweeping some blonde hair out of his face to reveal his forehead. He turns to his mother. “I agree.” Mingyu can’t tell if he’s responding to the fact that they are ‘emotionally linked’ or ‘soulmates’. But at the end of the day, aren’t they the same thing?

“I have to use the bathroom,” Wonwoo says, pushing his empty plate to the middle of the table as he stands. Mingyu watches him fondly as he walks away.

Mrs. Jeon smiles at Mingyu. She doesn’t say anything.  **“Thank you.”**

He turns his attention to the grown woman. “Why are you thanking me?”

She, again, doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t _need_ to. **“For being there for him. He was in a really rough place before we moved here. His fifteenth birthday wasn’t kind to him, you know. It’s just a shame that you’ll never hear him sing — he had the sweetest voice.”** Her eyes water.

His expression softens. “Mrs. Jeon,” Mingyu breathes. “I have heard him sing.”

She speaks out surprise. “What?” A single tear falls as she whips her head too quickly. “How?”

Mingyu places a hand over his heart. “In here,” he closes his eyes for a second, feeling the bittersweetness radiate off of the woman across from him. She’s sad that she can no longer hear her son’s singing, but happy that someone else _can_. “It’s one of the perks of being an empath. And soulmates.” He winks.

Her voice is heavy with feeling as she laughs, “You heard that?”

He nods. “I told Wonwoo, too.” Honestly, it makes total sense. But if someone were to tell Mingyu a year ago that he would end up believing in soulmates, Mingyu would have called them crazy. _But,_ Mingyu supposes, _if was going to change my perspective on love, I'm glad it was Wonwoo._

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment before Mingyu speaks again. “You don’t need to thank me, by the way,” he tells her. “Wonwoo’s helped me, too.”

She shakes her head. **“No, you don’t understand. There were days when he wouldn’t eat, nights when I’d wake up to the sound of sobs from down the hall, times when Bohyuk would _beg_ to get out of the house to take a break from Wonwoo. Hyukkie loves Wonwoo, but he was emotionally drained by the constant negativity.”**

Mingyu doesn’t notice the tears being drawn to his eyes. Mrs. Jeon continues. **“Then, last winter, it all changed. Suddenly, he was smiling. And he’d tell me about this boy he was seeing. At first, I was scared — I wanted to protect him from another broken heart. You know what happened last time…”** she trails off. “Honestly, that was part of the motivation for meeting you. Wonwoo seems serious about you, and I don’t think he’d recover if you hurt him.”

Mingyu’s crying. He’s not sure why. He wants to blame the waves of feeling flowing from Mrs. Jeon, but he can’t bring himself to. “I would  _never_ ,” his breathing is jagged. “I would never hurt him.”

She smiles softly. **“I know.”**

After a few moments, Wonwoo comes back to the table. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Mrs. Jeon says, filling out the check for the meal. “Mingyu, doesn’t he look handsome with his new hairdo?”

Wonwoo turns a violent shade of red. “ _Mom_ …”

Mingyu gives an earnest nod. **“Yes.”**

Wonwoo blushes harder.

Mrs. Jeon stands up. “We should get going,” she glances at her watch as she shrugs on her jacket. “Bohyuk and your father are probably back from the hockey game by now.” She meets Mingyu’s eyes as they walk toward the exit. “Would you like to stay the night, Mingyu?”

Mingyu shoots Wonwoo a look. “Is this a loaded question?”

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from the bowl of peppermints situated at the hostess table. **“Nope,”** he says, plunging his hand into the bowl and retrieving a whopping handful of mints. **“She knows you sleep over sometimes. She also knows we don’t do anything… really.”** He winks, popping a mint in his mouth.  **“Super hearing, remember?”**

Mingyu’s palms sweat at that. Yeah, they made it to third base… once… kind of… but what if they had done more? Mingyu thanks his lucky stars that it was at his own house, not Wonwoo’s.

“Does your mother allow you to sleep at other boys’ houses?” Mrs. Jeon asks, unlocking the minivan.

“Yeah,” Mingyu nods, “I’ll text her. Thanks.”

They drive in near-silence. Mingyu’s mother only responds with her go-to phrase.  _Be safe._ He can’t tell if she meant it as a double entendre, but it doesn’t exactly matter.

Bohyuk and Mr. Jeon are asleep as they pull into the parking spot in front of Wonwoo’s home. Mingyu and Wonwoo hold hands as they pad up to the loft, where Wonwoo sleeps. Wonwoo peels off some layers, changing into pajama pants and a t-shirt in the dark. The moonlight bounces off his skin as he takes out his contacts.

“How long have you had those?” Mingyu asks, his eyes adjusting to the light.

Wonwoo smiles as he kneels, romping through his drawer for the largest pair of sweatpants he owns. He throws some pajamas at Mingyu. “They’re new.”

They find themselves beneath the covers, legs intertwined and facing each other. They whisper, not caring if Mrs. Jeon can hear them. “I really do like _this_ ,” Mingyu runs his fingers through Wonwoo’s blonde hair. It’s softer than Mingyu imagined.

“Thank you.” They lay in the dark for a few minutes. Mingyu is almost,  _almost_ asleep when he hears a crinkling noise. He opens one eye to see Wonwoo unwrapping an after-dinner mint.

He places the mint in his mouth and chucks the wrapper onto the floor. “Want one?” he whispers, his voice husky and his breath minty and warm.

Mingyu laughs. “I don’t think sugar after brushing teeth is a good thing, dude.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Wonwoo repeats. “Want one?” He holds out an unwrapped mint.

Mingyu takes it. “Where are you hiding these?” He feels for Wonwoo’s hands beneath the sheets, but finds them empty.

“Secret.” Wonwoo justifies.

Mingyu huffs, feeling the hard candy start to shrink in his mouth. Wonwoo leans into Mingyu, bringing his face down to meet his own.

Mingyu decides minty kisses are his favorite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HO I'M BACK WHO KNEW IT'D BE THIS SOON, RIGHTTTTT??
> 
> anyway, this is a long chapter. a lot of crying, but everything is happy. just some fluffy shit. 
> 
> okay, so, i dunno if any of u have read the book To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf (personally, i hated it, but whatevr), but basically, half the book takes place over the course of like 7 hours and then, in the span of two pages, Woolf covers like 20 years. She calls that chapter 'Time Passes',,, and I think I might end up doing that in a bit. don't worry, there's still a few more chapters to go beforehand.
> 
> also, there's a really cute epilogue i've been thinking of since like chapter 3 or so, SO STAY TUNED!!!
> 
> i love y'all! once this ends, i'm gonna do some pristin-y stuff! I'M SO HAPPY THERE ARE PRISTIN STANS IN MY AUDIENCE HELL FUCKIN YEAAAAHHH
> 
> anyway @hashtagwyd on twitter and tumblr. ily guys. see u soon. i have an idea for christmas hehehehehehe <3


	19. walking in a boogie wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Christmas' spelled backwards isn't 'surprise', but that didn't stop Minghao.

Wonwoo hates the cold — Mingyu knows this. If the countless times he’s insisted they stay inside during the winter weren’t enough, all of his quirks when they are out in the cold  _definitely_ prove his hatred of the current weather. Bundling up in layer upon layer of wool and cotton and tying a thick scarf around his face so only his eyes peek out… his natural aversion to cold drinks… the little dances he does while he walks around in the cold, trying to ‘get the blood flowing’. Actions speak louder than words. Not that Mingyu’s complaining — in these winter months, Wonwoo seems to clutch his boyfriend a little more tightly.

For this reason, Mingyu had to practically _drag_ Wonwoo out of his bed. “C’mon, Wonwoo,” he whines, grabbing the blonde boy’s hand and yanking. “You’ve been in bed all day! We made plans, remember?”

The sun is just beginning to set over Starship University, the building across the street from Wonwoo’s apartment complex. “But it’s winter break,” Wonwoo’s voice is heavy with sleep and muffled by the duvet. “I don’t have to get up.”

“Please?” Mingyu tries, flashing a dopey smile and finally coaxing Wonwoo to open his eyes. For a second, he believes Wonwoo might heave himself out of bed.

But, alas, his begging seems to have the opposite effect. Wonwoo groans, burrowing more deeply into the blankets. “I’m going back to bed.”

Mingyu thinks for a second. “What if I make you something?” Wonwoo lifts his gaze out of the covers, raising his eyebrow.

 **“Hot cocoa?”** Wonwoo asks apprehensively.

Mingyu nods, satisfied as his boyfriend begins to stir. “If you aren’t dressed by the time I come back, I’ll drink it.” He hears a soft _t_ _hump_ on the floor as he closes the door behind him. Mingyu smiles to himself, picturing a tired Wonwoo mindlessly putting on clothes.

He returns minutes later, carrying a cup of hot cocoa carefully. For some reason, Wonwoo’s already chattering by the time Mingyu returns. He practically pounces on the hot chocolate, in need of something warm. “Be careful,” Mingyu exclaims. “You’ll spill it!”

Wonwoo chugs the steaming liquid greedily, not minding the burn. As he drinks, Mingyu talks. “We have to get going if we don’t want to be late.” He checks his phone, noticing texts from Minghao and Hansol. “Hao, Jun, Seokmin, and Soonyoung are already there. Apparently, Seungkwan is ill, so him and Hansol are staying in tonight.”

“Lucky,” Wonwoo huffs under his breath. Despite his sulky expression, his cheeks are flushed with warmth from the hot chocolate, and his eyes are bright and awake. He’s fully dressed in a thick, turtle-neck, cable-knit sweater and beanie, both a comforting oatmeal color.

“Now, don’t say that,” Mingyu scolds, grabbing Wonwoo’s hand. “It’ll be fun. And it was your idea.”

Wonwoo sighs, grabbing a scarf before walking out with his boyfriend. Wonwoo leads the way — he’s been to their rendezvous location once or twice before. It was just after he had moved to this town. It was just before Mingyu slipped into his life.

(Last winter, Junhui had marched through the woods for fifteen minutes with Wonwoo. They eventually came to a clearing, where the moon shone through the bare trees. They lit a fire in a massive pit, and, while sitting around it, Jun insisted on giving Wonwoo advice.

 _I’m sorry,_ Junhui said, staring into the fire. Wonwoo almost jumped — they had been sitting in comfortable silence for upwards of ten minutes, so the sudden noise was startling.

Wonwoo furrowed his brow.  _You don’t have to say that,_ he responded coldly. _I don’t want your pity._

Junhui couldn’t stifle the sad look that fell upon his features. He decided to change the subject. _I’m taking you with me tomorrow._ Wonwoo recoiled; Jun had mentioned something about a date with some kid from gym class. He didn’t really want to get involved. Plus, just the word 'date' reminds Wonwoo of  _him._

 _Thanks,_ _but no thanks,_ Wonwoo said, tossing little clumps of snow into the fire with his bare fingertips. His hands hurt from the cold.

 _I wasn’t offering,_ Junhui said, staring at the other boy.  _I was telling. You’re coming._

Wonwoo fought back angry tears. He hated feeling controlled. He hated being manipulated. _Fine,_ he said through gritted teeth. Something about Junhui made it hard for him to say no.

He clenched his hands into fists around the snow. He couldn’t feel the cold anymore, anyway.)

Mingyu held Wonwoo’s hand as they trudged through the forest. “Are we nearly there?” Mingyu asks. Wonwoo smiles, pointing a few hundred meters ahead, where a small light grows larger.

“Finally!” Soonyoung yells, clapping Mingyu on the back as they make it to the clearing. “It’s just us six tonight… Jeonghan and Josh are at Grandma Yoon’s house for dinner.”

“Let’s get this party started,” Seokmin slips a bluetooth speaker out from behind his back.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Minghao asks, floored by the massive speaker.

Soonyoung and Seokmin shrug in unison. “We have our ways,” says Soonyoung.

“Lemme put on my Christmas playlist,” Seokmin uses his pointer finger to tap his phone screen a few times. He clicks off his phone, looking up as he waits for the music to start.

Wonwoo squeals as trumpets and hi-hat hits blare to life. “Oh my god,” Seokmin mumbles as he hurries to turn down the music. He’s clearly just as surprised at the other five boys at the volume.

Soonyoung clutches his heart melodramatically. “That scared the living shit out of me,” he says once the music is turned down to comfortable, dull roar.

Everyone listens for a few seconds. Gradually, each person’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Wait,” Minghao says, quirking a smile. “What is this? Is this even Christmas music?”

As if punctuating his words, a chorale of rich female voices harmonize: _Dance! Boogie wonderland!_

Junhui pinches his nose bridge. “In what world does ‘Boogie Wonderland’ qualify as Christmas music?”

Seokmin shrugs, pretending he meant to play the groovy song. The redness of his face, however, betrays him and reveals his true feelings. “Boogie Wonderland and Winter Wonderland — what’s the difference?”

Mingyu, Wonwoo, Junhui, and Minghao sigh in unison. Soonyoung, on the other hand, comes up next to Seokmin and squeezes his waist. **“Exactly. I love your taste.”**

Mingyu can’t be bothered by the music choice. It’s Christmas Eve-Eve, December 23rd. He has the love of his life hanging off of his arm, his closest friends surrounding a warm fire, and upbeat music. What’s _not_ to love?

“You know what would make this better?” Soonyoung says, reaching into his coat pocket. His gloved hands return to sight holding a bag of jumbo marshmallows and a few bars of chocolate.

 **“I love you,”** Wonwoo’s heart isn’t directed at Mingyu. Mingyu follows Wonwoo’s gaze to the globs of gelatinous sugar that Soonyoung is beginning to jab onto the ends of thin twigs. He chuckles; of course Wonwoo is infatuated. It’s sugar and it’s warm — his two favorite things.

Soonyoung passes marshmallows and twigs around the small circle. Hours pass like this. Seokmin only has to justify his music choice once more ( _But everyone loves What Makes You Beautiful!_ _Why does it matter whether it’s Christmas-y or not?_ No one can argue with that.)

As the fire fades to only embers, Junhui entertains the other boys with supernatural trivia. “Yes, Wonwoo,” he answers the shivering boy. “It is completely possible for two powerless people to give birth to a powered individual.”

“But how do you know?” Soonyoung says, licking his fingers.

Junhui sighs. “I’d be an enigma,” Soonyoung stops licking his fingers.

“You are an enigma,” Minghao laughs, playfully hitting Junhui on the arm. Clearly, this isn’t new information to him. Junhui cracks a small smile. **“Thanks.”**

“Hold up,” Seokmin’s jaw drops. “Your parents are both powerless?”

Junhui makes a small grunt of affirmation and nods. “Well, more or less. My mom was born without a power, and my dad…” He hesitates, unsure how to proceed. “... lost his.” It sounds like a question, but Junhui phrases it as a statement.

Wonwoo’s heart burns with curiosity. **“How?”** Luckily, Jun answers the unasked question.

“Actually,” Junhui starts. He doesn’t seem particularly uncomfortable with the topic — no, this is something different. He’s at a loss for words. Opening and closing his mouth several times, drawing breaths as if preparing to speak, before settling upon, “he kind of sacrificed himself to his power, I suppose.”

Minghao takes his hand. **“It’s okay,”** he says silently. Junhui cannot hear his boyfriend’s thoughts, but he can feel them. Mingyu’s noticed this over the past year or so — his power really isn’t anything extraordinary. He simply puts words to the wordless. Articulating feelings is a gift, sure, but is it necessary? People share the unspoken conversation of love all the time. They don’t need words.

Junhui nods at Minghao. **“It’s okay,”** he echoes back. “He was a shapeshifter, like Jeonghan.” Jun stares into the dying fire. “Only, he was a bit more adept.”

“If it’s too hard to say, don’t say it,” Wonwoo chimes.

Jun shakes his head. “No, I want to.” He takes a deep breath. “When my mom was pregnant with my younger brother, her heart began to fail. In order to keep her alive, she needed a heart. It needed to be a certain size, have a certain blood type, and she needed it immediately. She wouldn’t have been the only casualty, either — Yangyang would have died also.”

“My father,” his voice shakes, “was the strongest man I’ve ever known. He signed some papers, acknowledging the dangers of becoming a heart. Even if he agreed to give up his human form, there was no guarantee that my mom would survive the surgery. It was unprecedented.”

“On the day of the surgery, I asked him how he could leave us,” Junhui’s eyes well up. He pauses, allowing the tears to return safely to the depths of his eyes. “He told me, ‘I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be with you — with Mama — always.’” Junhui stops again, trying not to cry. “He was so calm. How could anyone be that calm?” His voice is so low, it sounds like he’s talking to himself.

A tear falls. Mingyu looks around. Everyone else is crying, too. Mingyu would like to blame the glamour, but he knows that isn’t entirely to blame.

“He saved my mom’s life. He saved Yangyang’s life. And in his parting note, he wrote, ‘I’m not dead, so don’t cry. My heart beats for my present, my wife, and for my future, my son. It’s easy math, isn’t it? Sacrifice one life so two can live. I love you all.’”

“Is that why you’re so passionate about the supernatural?” Wonwoo asks between tears and jagged breaths.

Junhui nods. “Yes. I’m going to figure out how to get my dad out of there without hurting my mom.” He’s determined.

“But how,” Soonyoung inhales sharply, “how does it work? Like, scientifically?”

The chinese boy raises his shoulders. “No clue. Love or magic, probably. Science is overrated anyway.”

Minghao hits him gently on the shoulder. “How can you say that?”

“It’s true,” Junhui begins to get into his normal flow of thought, talking with his hands. “Think about it; before science, the world was explained by Gods, Goddesses, and the supernatural. Still, with science, you can’t explain _everything_. What if we were right the whole time? Or maybe the world is changing around us.”

“Things are changing,” Seokmin affirms. “After all, double-powers are becoming more and more common.”

Minghao’s phone buzzes. Mingyu can read his heart.  **“Emergency. I can never get to her in time!”** He sees a picture of Minghao’s mom flash through the winged boy’s mind.

“Double powers?” Soonyoung laughs. “Like what?”

Mingyu makes eye contact with Minghao. **“I have to _go_.”** A quiet popping noise stops Soonyoung’s giggles — Minghao disapparates.

Junhui yells in surprise as his boyfriend disappears into thin air. Then, with hushed words, he points to the empty space by his side and stutters. “Like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY HELLO!!!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND THANK YOU FOR READING!!! 
> 
> i'm sorry if this chapter made no sense whatsoever--- let me know of any continuity errors/grammar problems and I will tryyyyy to fix em!! 
> 
> This fic is almost a year old and honestly, this chapter took a different direction than I originally intended. SO MINGHAO HAS TWO POWERS NOW! MORE ON THAT NEXT CHAPTER! 
> 
> and then I'll have a chapter set a few years in the future
> 
> then I'll have a suuuuuper cute epilogue
> 
> and then it'll be the end and I'll move onto my pristin fic! I'm playing with a few ideas, but I'm thinking a coven/witch concept? Like in American Horror Story season 3?? Lemme know what u think of that idea hahahhahahaha
> 
> I LOVE Y'ALL ! OH AND I GOT INTO CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIKE TWO WEEKS AGOOOO AHHHHHHH!!! so I'll be writing more from now on!!! my twitter and tumblr are both @hashtagwyd !! <3


	20. thirteen seconds (intermission)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minghao ceases to exist for a second or two.

It all happened very quickly.

 _One_. Minghao sat next to Junhui, listening intently to his boyfriend describe the lengths Mr. Wen took to save his wife. Everyone around them listened intently, each garnering different expressions. Because Minghao had heard this story before, he could fully appreciate the other faces reacting to the tale. Soonyoung and Seokmin wore matching masks of disbelief, whereas Wonwoo shed silent tears.

 _Two_. The subject shifted. People started talking about powers as a general thing, drifting to double-powers as a concept. Minghao was barely listening— he had heard Jun talk about this sort of thing all the time.

 _Three_. His phone buzzed in his sweatshirt. Minghao plunged his hand into his giant pocket to check it, fishing it out of the layers of fabric. The notification was from his mother.

 _Four_. It took a second to read it. It was one simple phrase.  _On my way home from the pharmacy._ Minghao almost replaced his phone in his pocket, but it buzzed again in his hand.

 _Five._ Another text. _I’m being followed._ Then another, in quick succession. _Help._

 _Six._ Minghao didn’t know what to do. He thought of the different ways this could play out. His mother wasn’t particularly weak— she could usually handle encountering strangers. But she wouldn’t have texted if she wasn’t in real danger. If Minghao left now— even flying as fast as he could— he would still be too late.

 _Seven_. He looked at Mingyu. The sound around him cut out. He couldn’t explain the feeling that overcame him. It was as if a magnet was drawing him away from the group. He remembers seeing Mingyu’s eyes, reflecting the same fear that filled his own. He remembers everything around him going completely dark.

 _Eight._ Nothing. There was nothing. A solid second passed when Minghao simply did not exist.

 _Nine._ His whereabouts came into focus slowly, almost like waking up. It took a moment of vigorously whipping his head around to fulling comprehend where he appeared. He stood at the opening of a dark alley, wedged between a shitty motel and a bar. _Fuck,_ Minghao thought.

 _Ten._ Finally, a woman came into view out of the darkness. His mother, walking speedily, had her phone pressed to her ear. She seemed to be trying to make a call. Minghao watched her under the dimly lit street, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cold.

 _Eleven._ She was moving faster now. Minghao called, fluttering over to her,  _Mom!_ She met his eyes with fear, which immediately changed to relief. She moved forward quickly to meet her son, embracing him. _T_ _hank god you’re here,_ she whispered into his shoulder. He could feel her heart beating like crazy.

 _Twelve._ Minghao caught a glimpse of a large, shadowy figure in the alley. His eyes had adjusted enough to see him clearly— stocky build, maybe six foot two, with stubbly facial hair and a black hoodie pulled over his head. Jamming his hands into the pockets, the man turned and ran the other way.

 _Thirteen._ Footsteps pulled the danger away from the mother and son. Minghao and his mother could breathe more easily. They shared the same adrenaline, the same loss for words, and the same decreasing heartbeat as they linked arms.

Thirteen seconds. That’s how long it took for Minghao to ensure his mother’s safety. In a matter of thirteen seconds, the course of his life changed forever.

As they walk through the door to their home, it hits Minghao. “Mom, “ he says, breaking the silence held gently between them. She looks up at him. “I can teleport.”

“Huh?” She says distractedly, pulling various vitamins out of the pharmacy bag. Minghao allows her a few seconds to process the information. Then, per usual, she exclaims. “That’s great! And not just because you saved my skin…” she trails off, smirking.

Leave it to Minghao’s mom to crack jokes after experiencing a potentially traumatic episode. “Yeah, about that,” Minghao makes a conscious effort to lower his feet to the floor. His mom hates it when he asks her questions while flying over her head. She says it makes her feel small. “Who _was_ that guy?”

Dodging the question, Minghao’s mom puts the kettle on. “Do you want some tea?”

This is weird, even for his mom. It’s not like her to avoid questions. After all, it had always been just her and Minghao. They had a sort of ‘honesty only’ policy. “Mom.” She doesn’t look at him. “Who was that?”

The tea had reached a boil. “He’s just someone from my past,” she poured the hot water into two mugs and slid one over to Minghao. They each stood next to each other at the counter top.

“It’s not…?” Minghao doesn’t want to ask about his father, not now. Not with the way her eyes brimmed with tears in that alley. Not with the desperation in her texts. No. Minghao doesn’t want that man to be his father. So he doesn’t ask the question.

Thankfully, his mom sets his worries to rest. “He’s not your father, no.” She takes a sip of tea. “I dated him a little bit when you were in middle school.”

“Do you know why he was after you?” Minghao asks apprehensively.

She nods. “About a week ago, he asked me if we could get back together.” Brushing hair out of her eyes, she sighs. “But he’s not such a nice guy, so I turned him down. I guess he doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“I will fuck him up, Mom,” Minghao seethes, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Just tell me what his power is. That way, I’ll know what I’m up against.”

Minghao’s mom pats his shoulder gently. “That’s not really necessary, Hao. The last thing I need is for my only child to get in trouble.” She drinks more of her tea. “After all, he doesn’t have any magic blood.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t have a power,” she repeats. “Now finish your tea and go to bed. It’s late.”

“How am I supposed to sleep tonight after all that?” Minghao asks, gulping down the warm liquid.

Minghao’s mother smiles and shrugs. “I’m probably the last person you should be asking about sleep.”

It’s true. When she turned fifteen, she was given access to an unlimited energy source within her. She quite literally never needs to sleep. Sometimes she does, however, because she likes to dream. Most nights she stays awake, though. It allows her to work two full shifts a day, making twice as much money as other single moms out there.

Minghao’s lucky. She’s using all the extra money she made to pay for his tuition. Most of the time, Minghao thinks it’s a waste. She should buy herself a proper house or go on an all-inclusive vacation, but she insists that her son go to college so that he doesn’t have to work as hard as she did.

“You aren’t going out again are you?” Minghao asks before opening the door to his bedroom. “I don’t like the look of that guy.”

“Yeah, I got the week off. The holidays and all that jazz,” she puts her mug in the sink.

“Okay, just text me if you decide otherwise.” He steps through his door, calling over his shoulder. “I’ll be there before you can say ‘say the name’!”

Laying in bed as snow falls in large clumps outside of his window, Minghao thinks about his newfound power. He wonders how it works. “I can’t sleep anyway,” he mumbles to himself, flinging his feet out of his sheets. “Might as well see what I can do.”

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. He thinks about who he wants to see. _Junhui._ The name bounces back and forth in his brain for a few seconds before the familiar pulling sensation seems to drag him out of his bedroom.

Nothing. He doesn’t exist.

And then he does again. He begins existing in the middle of the snowy streets, standing barefoot in his pajamas. Startled by the frozen pavement on his warm soles, Minghao’s wings carry him a few inches above the ground. Junhui walks perpendicular to him, clearly en route from the woods to his house. “Jun!” Minghao shouts as he glides over to his boyfriend.

“Oh my god,” Junhui doesn’t think twice. He yanks off his own jacket and slides it around Minghao’s shoulders. “Is everything alright?” He places a gentle kiss on Minghao’s lips.

The flying boy nods. “Mom was being followed. I teleported, I guess. And I teleported here.” He takes Junhui’s hand as they walk in the snow.

“She’s okay now?” Jun asks after a few seconds of silent thought.

“Yes,” Minghao nestles himself into Jun’s side.

Jun’s still marveling at Minghao. “Then why are you here?” He asks. “Not that I’m opposed. I love having you here.”

Minghao giggles. “I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to test out this whole teleportation thing.”

“And what did you learn?” Junhui asks. Leave it to Jun to ask about ‘learning’ at a time like this.

“Nothing, really. I just kinda thought about you, and here I am!” Minghao makes a little ‘ta-da’ gesture with his free hand. Junhui laughs.

They walk in the peace and quiet until they reach Junhui’s doorstep. “You can come in if you want,” he offers.

Minghao shakes his head. “I don’t know if that would be best,” he has to gather up all his willpower not to pin Jun against the door jamb and make out with him _now._ Frankly, he doesn’t trust himself enough to go inside with Jun.

It’s not Jun’s fault, but sometimes his glamour is so strong, Minghao sees double.

“That’s alright,” Jun smiles, oblivious to how badly Minghao wants to follow him inside. “You’re coming over for Christmas dinner, right?”

Minghao nods. Jun reaches for his boyfriend’s chin, dragging Minghao’s lips to his own. In between sloppy, steamy, love-drenched kisses, Jun mumbles, “Love you, Hao.”

“Love you, too, Jun,” Minghao winds his arms around Jun’s neck and lets the older boy hoist him up against the door. His legs seem to have a mind of their own, wrapping around Jun’s torso.

Minghao cannot get physically closer to Junhui, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. It’s never enough.

Eventually, after both of their lips become numb from the combined cold and constant pressure, Minghao pulls away. “See you soon,” he breathes, resting his forehead against Jun’s. Jun nods.

Minghao thanks his lucky stars that he has wings, because at times like these, his legs are bound to buckle beneath him.

Jun unlocks the door and disappears behind it.

Once alone, Minghao’s mind begins to clear. He tries to go home using his teleportation abilities, by picturing his bedroom, his living room, his kitchen, even his entire building. He closes his eyes, focusing. Still, the pulling feeling doesn’t come.

“Hmmm…” He makes a small noise of confusion. Then he tries again, this time thinking about his mother. His power pulls him toward her, away from the small light on the stoop, away from Junhui’s cold front door.

Nothing.

He reappears a room over from her. She’s watching TV in the living room, and he’s currently fluttering in the warmth next to the heater in the hallway.

“I guess I can only teleport to people, not places,” he mutters as he returns to his room, careful not to disturb his mother.

It makes sense. The destination, the place, the four walls or the open sky — they will never mean as much as a pair of eyes shining back at you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, I'm backkkkkkkk sorry!!!! hope you liked minghao's perspective!
> 
> hope this made sense, sorry if it was confusing! minghao can teleport now ahhahahaha that's basically it
> 
> also, i was dangerously close to writing smut, but don't worry! this universe is pretty pure!
> 
> there should only be about two or three chapters left! wish me luck! thank you so much for hanging around for this long! i love you all and I love your comments and kudos and ahhhhhhhhhh <33333
> 
> PS SEUNGKWAN'S BIRTHDAY WAS YESTERDAY!!! MY ULT BIAS!! I LOVE HIM!!! I WISH HIM NOTHING BUT PEACE AND LOVE AND HAPPINESS!!!!!!!!!!!! AND HEALTH!!! 
> 
> hmu on twitter or tumblr (@hashtagwyd) if you so desire!! i love y'all! have a nice day/night :)


	21. solitaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never trust a hot day in February.

Sweat beads on Mingyu’s neck as he plods down the sidewalk to the local café. Armed with a backpack and a few bucks intended for an iced americano, Mingyu has a huge project to delve into. When Wonwoo asked why he couldn’t come to the café with him, Mingyu kissed him on the nose. _You’re just too damn distracting._ Wonwoo pouted a little at that, but didn’t object.

The February weather where Mingyu lives is tempermental, to say the least. Yesterday it snowed a few inches in the morning, whereas Mingyu is currently sweating through today’s t-shirt. The heat is a welcome change, but a strange one.

The air conditioner blasts Mingyu with stale-freshness as he pulls the door open. He orders his drink, sits down, and lays out all of his supplies. He hears whispers in the back of his head as he accesses the wifi and remembers why he doesn’t study in public anymore.

When you can hear everyone’s hearts, everyone is a distraction, not just the ones you love.

Mingyu used to be able to tune it out. He could shove headphones over his ears and pretend he was alone. For the most part, it worked. His power has matured, however, over the past few years. It grew with him. It was good, too. At least, most of it was.

There are mild inconveniences, Mingyu thinks. It’s hard to find peace and quiet. It’s stressful. He knows exactly what words to say to fix a relationship, but it’s none of his business. Sometimes, he just has to let it go.

And times like these. “How the hell am I gonna get work done when everyone is out on dates?” he mumbles, turning his music up as loud as it’ll go.

The blaring music works for a little bit (thank god) but a loud voice slices through the verses. It takes Mingyu a second to realize it isn’t in his head. Someone at the table next to him is speaking a little too loud. “You’re a bad person. I deserve a lot better, honestly.”

Mingyu steals a glance. A boy is speaking to a girl very matter-of-factly. Two coffee cups sit in between them, going untouched. She doesn’t look at him; she stares at the seat next to him, instead. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from her.

Something surprising hums out of the boy’s heart, though.  **“I love you. I can’t _not_ love you. It’s killing me.”**

It’s hurting his heart to listen to them, but it hurts his ears to try to block them out. He tries his best to focus on Physics, and succeeds… for maybe 10 minutes.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” her voice is softer than his, and her heart is layered with shame. “I know what I did was wrong, but I’m not a villain. We both can’t control how we feel.”

His eyes burn holes in hers, but she stares at the palms of her hands. “Was it a lie?” his voice breaks lightly. There is something so vulnerable, so  _intimate_ , about the boy’s tone. It almost embarrasses Mingyu to listen.

“What?” Finally, the girl raises her eyes to his. “Was _what_ a lie?” She grasps a cup of coffee and takes a sip.

 **“Did you love me at all? Did you ever care? Did you need me the way I needed you? Did you want to be around me? Did you _love_ me?”** His heart buzzes with doubt and agony. Verbally, he settles on something simpler. Sighing, he mumbles, “Any of it. The conversations about ‘forever’. The love.”

She hesitates, but Mingyu can’t feel anything from her heart. “I think we both said things we didn’t mean…”

The boy responds too quickly. “Oh yeah, for sure.” He swallows a mouthful of coffee. **“I stand by every single word I’ve ever said to you.”**

 _That_ hurts Mingyu. This is a new phenomena; completely uncharted territory. Mingyu’s accustomed to cases of skinny love, where two people love each other but are too scared to say anything. It always frustrates Mingyu, but causes no genuine pain. Mostly, it’s annoying. _This_ , however, is excruciating. He can feel his heart breaking with the couple at the next table.

You cannot control how you feel, and this is a perfect example. She doesn’t feel anything for him, whereas he would probably die for her. How can two people be in such different places emotionally? And why?

He can’t stand the discomfort and sorrow, and packs his backpack. Feeling shaken up, he runs out of the coffee shop, and doesn’t stop running until he’s through his front door. Sweat on his brow and his heartbeat thudding in his ears, he throws his stuff on the floor.

“What happened to you?” Mingyu’s mom asks gently from the kitchen table, where she is playing solitaire. She doesn’t look up at him, but he can feel gentle thrums of reassurance radiating toward him from her direction.

“Nothing,” he sighs, starting to walk toward his bedroom. Something pulls him back, however. He’d like to believe it’s the fault of his mother’s power, influencing him to tell her things, but he knows in his heart that it isn’t. “Mom?” He sits next to her.

“Mmm?” She places her last card down, and drags her eyes to Mingyu’s. “What is it?”

He frowns, choosing the words he wants to say carefully. “What makes people love each other?”

She stares at him in puzzlement. “Like, why do we feel the things we do?” He tries to rephrase. “Why do our feelings defy reason?”

She thinks for a moment, not necessarily stumped by his question, but figuring out how to respond. “I… don’t know, Gyu. I don’t think there is a defined answer.”

“What do  _you_ think, then?” He catches her eyes.

She smiles so softly, so tenderly, that Mingyu almost forgets the pain he felt in the coffeeshop. Almost.  **“Emotions cannot be controlled. Our hearts make decisions on our behalf to try to make us happy. Sometimes, the choices they make are stupid.”** Then, aloud; “They're not governed by rational thought or logic, after all.”

Mingyu huffs, looking at the ground as he rocks his feet back and forth. “That sucks.”

Despite being a statement, his mom shakes her head gently. “Yes and no,” she says tentatively, looking off into the distance. For a moment, she’s lost elsewhere in thought. “It’s what makes us human. The chance that something good will come out of love is worth the risk of heartbreak.”

“Judging by today, I’m not so sure about that.” Mingyu sighs, taking a seat next to her.

Ms. Kim snaps back to reality, her glazed-over eyes coming into focus. She speaks slowly, tasting each word on her tongue as they float away from her. “I have never told you about the beginning of the relationship between your father and I.”

Mingyu can’t look away. His eyes are glued to her, trying to gauge her feelings, which usually isn’t difficult, given their particular powers. She shuts down, however, making her impossible to read. “You don’t have to, Mom.” He knows it’s uncomfortable for her.

“You deserve to know.”

The world feels like it’s falling down, crushing Mingyu and his mother beneath its weight. He knows she’s thinking about her family — he’s only felt this soul-crushing feeling once before. In front of the fish tank, a few years ago, when he found her crying. She holds back so many feelings, but this one is too powerful. He can tell she’s trying, though.

“When I was thirteen, my family died. I think the house is still there, by the sea, but I haven’t gone back to check. We weren’t on good terms, my mother and I. She was not very nice to me — I recognize that now.” Mingyu could see flashes of violence and pain echo inside of his mother’s head. “It was particularly bad that day. _She_ was particularly bad that day.”

Mingyu is suffocating underneath her words. She pauses, takes a deep breath, and attempts to still the broad, crushing pain that washes over the both of them.

“They each got into the car — my mother, my father, and my brother,” she meets Mingyu’s eyes, trying to communicate the incomprensible. “I prayed. I don’t know what or who I prayed to — we weren’t especially religious — but they listened. I asked to be delivered somewhere else, somewhere far away.” A few tears fall onto the solitaire cards sprawled across the table. “I was,” she mumbles.

After a few moments of jagged breathing, Mingyu assumes she doesn’t want to continue. He almost speaks — even draws in a breath — but the words pour out of his mother like a waterfall.

“I met your father when I moved. When I turned fifteen, I realized I could use people to my advantage. I could influence people to help me. No one would hurt me and no one would abandon me.”

Her voice epitomizes sadness, dripping and cold. “I caused your father to fall in love with me. I used his strength to physically hurt the people I disliked. I got him into so much trouble. I almost lost him.”

“How?” Mingyu rasps.

“He couldn’t be himself anymore. Influencing feelings only works in small doses. He felt trapped within his skin, like his decisions weren’t his own, like he couldn’t breathe.” She stops, wiping her eyes on her palms.  **“He tried to take his own life.”**

Mingyu reaches around his mother, and she automatically curls into his chest. Like this, she is so small, so fragile. His unbreakable mother folds under the weight of the things she’s done.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she whispers. “‘How did you come back from that?’ And, truthfully, I don’t know. Your father is incredibly forgiving, I suppose. More so than I am.”

“I love you, Mom,” Mingyu says, squeezing her shoulder. He can feel her heart swell ever-so-slightly.

 **“I love you, too, sweetheart,”** her heart tells him. **“Remember to be gentle with people. Try your best.”**   
  
They exchange sad smiles. She rises from the table.

“Thanks,” he breathes, thinking of his family, his friends. Wonwoo. “I will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told y'all I wouldn't abandon this fic!!! It IS almost over though.... maybe one or two chapters left!!! this has been sitting in my google docs for the past four ish months because i've been too dang busy!!! feels good to write again, though :) Sorry it took me so long,,, senior year is over and I'm graduating in a week's time!!!
> 
> I also have a super awesome boyfriend now!!! SO u can expect some sweet-ass fluff from here on out !!! I'm in the right headspace, after all!!!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around through all of this shit!!!!! lemme know what u liked / didn't like and have patience!! I'll wrap it all up in a nice lil bow this summer :)
> 
> love y'allllllll !!!


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